


επιφάνεια - epiphany

by KyberHearts_And_StardustSouls



Category: Small MCU crossover, star wars AU - Fandom
Genre: Bucky Barnes - Freeform, Cass x Jyn, Crete, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Mentions of Pregnancy, Minor MCU crossover, Muran - Freeform, Oddy Muva - Freeform, Poe in himself is a warning, Rey x Finn, Star Wars AU, Supporting Characters - Freeform, Tags will be added when needed, Travel, With all that swagger, alcohol consumption, brief mentions of Tony Stark, iolo arana - Freeform, steve rogers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:22:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28801275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyberHearts_And_StardustSouls/pseuds/KyberHearts_And_StardustSouls
Summary: All you do is work. Work, work, work. It's not a bad job. You get to travel. See the world. For work... A meet-cute with a handsome pilot changes that. From all work and no play, life becomes more...Warnings: This story is mostly fluffy fluff with mentions of smexy times towards the end. It contains mentions of alcohol use. Mentions of pregnancy. Reader is closer to Poe's age from TFA where he's 32, so late 20s to early 30s!
Relationships: Poe Dameron & You, Poe Dameron X Fem!Reader, Poe Dameron/You, Poe x Fem!Reader
Comments: 28
Kudos: 19





	1. Part I: A Man Spelled T-R-O-U-B-L-E

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly fluffy fluff.  
> Also, I know nothing about the Air Force hierarchy, and even after research, I'm not sure how it works. So, grain of salt kind of warning. It is fiction.

“Can you make that a double? Uhm... ένα διπλό (éna dipló). παρακαλώ (parakaló - please)?” You’re about ninety percent sure that you’ve pronounced the words correctly. Even so, there’s an awkward pause. Maybe you should repeat the order. Or maybe you’ve just said something offensive. _Fuck! Maybe it was offensive.  
  
_ Before you have time to ask again, the man behind the counter tops off your glass. “Since you asked very nicely.” He winks, amusement lifting his face.  
“ευχαριστώ (efcharistó - thanks).” This time, you’re one-hundred percent certain you’ve butchered the word. It’s in the way the bartender laughs and nearly drops the bottle of top-shelf bourbon to the ground.  
But he’s gotta give you credit. At least you’re trying. “Close. It’s Ef-cha-ri-stó.” He pronounces each syllable and you repeat and repeat and repeat, each time taking a sip of your bourbon until the glass is near empty.  
  
“You will get it, I am sure. Until then, one on the house.” Anatólios, as you’ve come to know between sips, refills your glass.  
This time you laugh. Accent-driven mispronunciation goes both ways. Unlike you though, he knows more than please and thank you in English. Something you’re very grateful for. You doubt that you would be able to continue light conversation without fumbling through some translation app on your cell.  
  
Anatólios winks at you, again, then proceeds to take orders from other, waiting patrons. You watch him, hear him reply in at least six different languages, and really, it shouldn’t be a surprise. People from all over the world visit this island, including you. Still, you sit impressed, getting lost in the exchanges for a moment before downing the rest of your drink.  
  
A heavy sigh, you wait patiently for Anatólios’ return. Maybe it’s a sign to leave. A double plus one equals three, and three drinks is plenty. And you still need to make it back to your hotel.  
  
“So which is it? Long day or heartbreak?” A voice to your left breaks your contemplation and you shift on your barstool, a witty comeback at the tip of your tongue. But -what’s the saying- the cat catches your tongue and your mind freezes, ‘cause...  
  
Jesus fucking... WOW! Those are the most beautiful brown eyes you’ve ever seen. And god, frick, that’s one hell of a gorgeous smile. Especially with those kind of lips. Soft-looking. Like silk. A nice contrast to stubble and cheek creases and perfectly thick brows... “Uhm...” You truly are caught off guard. Actually need a second to find your words. Which Greek god chiseled this perfection?  
“That bad, huh?” The beautiful set of eyes narrows in amusement, crinkles deepening and further defining the ruggedly handsome face they belong to.  
  
A long exhale, you play with your empty glass, reality slowly catching up. “Honestly... It’s been a long week.” You supply at last, and the man on your left takes a seat on an empty barstool.  
“Now I have to know more.”  
You laugh softly. “I don’t know. My dad always said I shouldn’t talk to strangers. And last time I checked, you are a stranger.”  
“Strangers? I thought everyone here knows who I am. I’m Poe.”  
  
Talk about confidence! You laugh, again. “Is that your actual name?”  
“Yup.”  
You drag a gaze over Poe, shaking your head. This man oozes confidence. Confidence and charm. The way he smiles and waits and clearly, very clearly, checks you out again, long lashes syncing with the movement of his eyes. Confidence and charm and a hint of roguish mischief. Trouble. But you’re not gonna lie. Your interest is piqued, even if this man spells T-r-o-u-b-l-e with a capital T.  
  
He’s not a local. That much you got from the lilt when he’d spoken. And from the way he’s dressed. You doubt you’ve seen anyone around here wearing a heather-gray Mets graphic tee. In fact, graphic tees are very much an American thing. Along with the worn-in dark-washed 501s. So he’s not a local...  
  
“One more?” Anatólios’ voice interrupts your sleuthing mind and suddenly you’re very aware that you’re not alone with Poe.  
You sigh. Three is plenty. And you do have to work tomorrow. But damn it: you don’t want to leave. Not now.  
  
You shake your head. “Something light would be great. Water, or maybe some Sprite. Do you have Sprite?”  
Anatólios nods, gets you a tall glass. “And for you, sir?” He directs at Poe while filling your glass, and Poe, without so much as a stutter, rattles down a large order in perfect Greek.  
“Right on it, Καπετάνιος Kapetánios.”  
  
Now that, you understood! Another glance at Poe, you note his high-and-tight and the ball chain around his neck. “Captain? You’re military?”  
“Yes. Although it’s Major, now. But Tóli likes to tease me, don’t you Tóli?” Poe calls over the noise of the bar and Ana-Tóli-os laughs.  
  
Nickname basis, it’s clear Poe’s been here for some time. It’s as though he can read your mind. “Four years. That’s how long I’ve been stationed here. Extended my stay. I mean, can you blame me?” Poe points to the enormous arched window with view onto the Cretan Sea, deep orange fading into inky blue, and you agree with a soft nod.  
  
Another minute and the bartender is back with a decently sized tray, a dozen different drinks standing atop. Poe plucks a few Euro bills from his wallet, again speaking perfect Greek when he thanks Tóli. “So... you gonna join us?” Poe looks over his shoulder and you follow his line of sight.  
  
You’re not sure how many people are crowded around the table, but it’s cheery and kind of loud and you’re kind of... not. At least, not right now. “I don’t want to intrude.”  
“You’re not. I’m inviting you.” Poe coaxes and you hold a breath. “Come on. At worst, you lose a few minutes looking at my pretty face. At best, you’ll laugh a couple of hours and forget all about your long week; of course, still while looking at my pretty face.”  
  
Poe truly is confidence personified. He waggles his brows, lifts the tray, and you can’t help another laugh. Might as well. It can’t get worse than whatever last week had been and you really could use the distraction.  
  
You grab your soda and follow, if a bit sheepishly, as Poe takes lead to the large round table in the back corner of the bar.  
“Hey... about time! We’re dying of thirst.” Broad and taller than Poe -like way taller than Poe- a robust man takes the tray from Poe’s hands and Poe rolls his eyes.  
“You have legs. Coulda gotten your own drinks, Snap.”  
“Right. I coulda. But you owe us, so...”  
  
“You owe them?” You ask softly behind Poe and he makes a face.  
“Don’t ask.” He whispers from the corner of his mouth but Snap catches the plea.  
“Yeah, ask. Poe lost a bet sky-high. Begged not having to go skinny dipping. So we let him off the hook with an evening of drinks. But there’s still time for him to change his mind. Water’s still warm, I’m sure.”  
“Dude!”  
  
Funny how fast a man’s ego deflates when his friends tell on him. You try not to laugh but in all honesty, it’s hard not to, especially with that look of despair on Poe’s face. “Sorry.” You want to sound sincere -really really do- but it comes out as a snicker and Poe gently elbows your side.  
“It’s ok. I got plenty of time to recover.” And just like that, confidence is back, Poe offering a smug wink and a smug smile. Is that innuendo?  
  
“So who’s your friend?” Broad and very tall, aka Snap, distributes drinks, then smiles at you.  
“Guys, this is my friend...” Poe looks to you encouragingly, waits for you to find your voice in this clearly overwhelming moment of meeting his friends and colleagues.  
“Uhm... Y/N.” You whisper and even you know that you’ve got to speak up. “It’s Y/N.” You repeat with some gusto, and Snap shakes your hand so strongly, you’re not sure if your arm is still attached when he lets go.  
  
“Well, let me introduce you to this crew of misfits and troublemakers.” A wave of jeers and napkins hits Snap and he booms out a laugh with raised hands. “Hey! I’m still your CO.”  
“Not off duty, you’re not!” More jeers and napkins, the group settles down when Snap squares his shoulders.  
“Alright. Let’s go left to right. That tall smart beauty right there is my wife, Karé. Next to her we got Muran, Iolo, and Oddy. Then there’s Rey and Finn and L’ulo. And closing the circle is Jessika. And you already know the most annoying of us, Poe.”  
  
“Hey!” Poe tries to make himself as tall as Snap, but even on his tippy toes, he’s still a couple of inches too short.  
You snicker, then shyly wave at the group of people around the table. So many new faces. So many new names. It will take a while to remember them all. But you’re sure Poe will help remind you. You have this feeling he wouldn’t just leave you dangling like some helpless prey above a pit of vipers.  
  
Not that these people seem like scaled predators but right now, everyone looks at you expectantly. As if your next move decides whether they collectively like you or not. The silence doesn’t help. But truly, you can’t blame them. They’re friends and you’re an outsider.  
  
It’s as if Poe senses your tension. In a chivalrous move, he pulls the only empty chair from the table and pushes it towards you as you seat yourself, then he steals another chair from a neighboring table for himself. He gives you a wink and another encouraging smile. “Be nice, guys. Y/N had a long week.”  
  
The silence lingers. A deep breath and a sip of Sprite gives you some courage. “I’m sure it’s not as exciting as what you guys do. So are you all pilots? Or in the military?”  
“Oh god, no.” The young woman sitting center across from you replies with the strongest English accent you’ve ever heard, and Poe sits mouth agape, hands open in a ‘what the fuck’ gesture.  
“What’s that supposed to mean, Rey?”  
  
A short stare-off between Poe and Rey, you can’t help the laugh bubbling through, and just like that, the silence breaks.  
Rey shrugs, unbothered, then she looks to you. “Finn and I are teachers at the international school on base.” Rey smiles at Finn, and he nuzzles a kiss into Rey’s hair. Obviously, they’re more than colleagues.  
  
A quick glance to their hands, you spot matching bands. “And married?” You ask carefully. Matching rings doesn’t always mean married. It could just mean partners.  
But Finn nods, places another kiss onto Rey’s hair. “Three years.” He supplies with a fond smile before intertwining his fingers with Rey’s. They’re a cute couple.  
  
“I’m an engineer. Ground crew.” The young man sitting on Rey’s right now speaks. If you remember correctly, his name is Oddy. “So is Karé.” He continues and points to the tall blond woman next to Snap. “Although, that’s just temporary.”  
  
“Oh?”  
Karé nods and you notice that, like you, she’s drinking Sprite. “Taking a break from flying until this one is old enough to walk.” Karé points to her stomach where you now notice a little bump.  
“Exciting. How far along are you?”  
“Almost five months.” Karé definitely has that pregnancy glow. “Not gonna lie, though. I miss flying.”  
  
“So you and Snap met through work, then?”  
“Initially on the same squad. But that changed when we started dating.” Snap takes over for Karé, and like Rey and Finn, intertwines fingers with his half. Another cute couple.  
  
“Blah. Enough about us. What about you? What do you do?” Jessika draws your attention right and you snicker at her curiosity.  
“I’m a glorified secretary and personal assistant.”  
“That explains the long week.” Poe chimes back in. “So your boss needed you to travel along?”  
  
“He did. He’s hopelessly lost without me.” You laugh and so does the group. “I’m just kidding, but he is a ‘workhorse’. I don’t think he has a life. It’s a little sad.”  
“Really? Is he young?” Poe prods further. He’s serious this time, features hardening into sharp lines.  
“Why do you ask? Jealous already?”  
  
Poe makes a face, voice flat when he answers. “No.”  
Obviously, his friends know something you don’t, the way the whole table erupts in laughter.  
“Testing the waters, Dameron?” Snap laughs the loudest.  
“What? I can’t ask? It’s an honest question.”  
“Yeah right! He’s seeing if he can keep working his charm on you.” Rey points a finger at you, laughing as much as the rest.  
  
“Thanks, guys.” Poe sinks into his chair and you can’t deny, you feel a little sorry for him.  
“He’s in his late thirties. Handsome. Tall. Ex-military.” You watch as Poe’s eyes go round in defeat. “And if I was his type, I’d probably try to flirt with him a little, but I’m not.” You shrug and Poe perks back up, squinting at you like he doesn’t trust what he’s heard.  
  
“How can you not be his type? Has he seen you?”  
“Jesus Christ, Poe! Ever heard of subtlety?” You don’t know who asks this time. The whole table erupts in laughter again and it takes a whole minute before everyone calms down. “In case you haven’t noticed, Poe is a little rusty when it comes to flirting.” The same voice adds and you try to hide your amusement but you can only hold your breath for so long.  
  
“Thanks, Iolo.”  
“No problem, boss. Always here to lend a hand.” Iolo gives a lazy salute.  
  
Poe shakes his head, rolls his eyes. “You see what I have to deal with. It’s like this every single day.” He makes puppy eyes at you and you laugh.  
“Why do I get the feeling that you’re not any better?”  
Poe makes another face, all scrunched and with total disbelief, but his friends cheering and high-five-ing you means that you’re right and he’s been caught.  
  
At last, the focus shifts to others in the group and you learn that they’re all a bit mischievous. At least it makes for great conversation. And great distraction. Poe had been right. A couple of hours pass with ease, your week completely forgotten by the third and last round of drinks for the night.  
  
“So, Y/N, you gonna come join us at the beach tomorrow? Forecast says it’ll be sunny, and we could use another woman on the volleyball team.” Jessika asks, a little tipsy sway in her words.  
“I wish I could. But I can’t. I have work.”  
“Boooooo. Play hooky.” Rey suggests, just as tipsy, but you shake your head. “Come on. It’s Sunday. And it’s Christmas season. You can’t work on Sundays during the happiest time of the year. Play hooky. Play hooky. Play hooky.” Rey chants and to your dismay, everyone joins in.  
  
Only when Tóli shows up, balancing a tray of shot glasses filled to the brim with ouzo and a small orange juice for Karé, does the group settle down. “Closing drinks. On the house.” The bartender smiles and everyone takes a glass, including Tóli. “γεια μας (geiá mas - cheers, lit. to our health).  
  
A bit of scrambling, a few stumbled steps, the group gathers up their belongings, then heads outside and shuffles towards the cab collection point close-by.  
“I can walk from here. My hotel is only a few streets down.” You tell Karé while she as the only sober person sorts her friends into three waiting cabs.  
  
“It’s like watching over a bunch of kindergarteners.” Karé huffs when she pushes her husband into the backseat of the last cab. “You sure you want to walk?” She asks and you nod.  
“It’s not far.” You promise but Karé doesn’t like the idea of you walking back alone. Not at this hour.  
  
And neither does Poe it seems, considering that he’s still patiently waiting on the sidewalk. “I can hail a cab at the hotel.” He explains and Karé hugs you both goodbye.  
  
Poe watches after the departing cabs, then waits for you to take lead. When you do, you walk silently next to Poe, every so often stealing a glance. He’s definitely been a great distraction. A handsome, funny, and smart distraction. And a respectful one, too.  
  
Not once did he crowd you. Not once did he make inappropriate advancements. All he’d done was sit next to you, close enough to let you know you’re not alone but away far enough to keep a discreet distance.  
  
Even now, Poe keeps a discreet distance. His hands are stuffed into the pockets of his jacket. He gives you space as you walk. Only when you two pass someone here or there, does he move closer to you. Protectively but still discreet.  
  
“So. What if I promised to wear a Speedo to the beach?” Poe asks out of nowhere and you need a second to process.  
“Uhm... what?”  
“I mean, if I promised to wear like one of them European swimsuits, would you join us then?” He clarifies and your brain is still playing catch-up. “It’ll be a little chilly, but I got the butt for it, don’t you agree?” Poe does a three-sixty and it finally settles in. Confidence personified!  
  
You laugh, yet again. Wholeheartedly because what kind of question is that? Even need a moment to catch your breath before you can walk on, snickering now and then because what kind of image is THAT?  
“What’s so funny?” Poe laughs with you and you shake your head.  
“You. You’re funny.”  
“Eh. I try.”  
  
Silence again, it isn’t long before you reach the steps of your hotel. The gentleman he is, Poe offers his arm to help you up to the door and you accept. First, true contact feels so good. Even if it’s just his arm. Warm and firm, you wonder what it would feel like to be held by him.  
“I take it that’s a no to the Speedo?” Poe waggles his brows once you reach the glass-door and you push gently against his chest.  
Amusement trades for a kind of sadness. It’s time to say goodnight. “I really wish I could come but... “  
  
Poe smiles, steps into your space. “It’s okay.” He whispers, gently pulls you into a hug, and god, does he smell good. Feel good. So calm. So soothing. So warm. So comfortable. So... home. You wish you could stay in his arms like this forever but it is late and you do have an early morning. “I’m sorry.” You apologize and Poe takes a step back.  
“Don’t be sorry.” He sweeps a hand over your cheek, smiles again.  
  
An awkward moment, you both wait to see if the other wants to say something else. Do something else. But courage fades with each sobering breath, the remainder of alcohol running through your veins barely keeping you warm now.  
“Goodnight.” You whisper.  
“Goodnight.” Poe repeats, taking a step down and you take another step towards the door.  
  
“I did...” you pause and Poe stops his descent. “I did have a great time.”  
“Me, too.”  
“And uhm... I wish I wasn’t here for work.”  
“Me, too.”  
“Sorry. I’m keeping... I mean, I should... really turn in.”  
“Me, too.” Poe whispers, now back in front of you.  
  
Damn it. Damn his eyes. Damn his dashing smile. Damn those god damn lashes and those soft-as-silk-looking lips. This man spells T-r-o-u-b-l-e, but... you don’t care. You. do. not. care! Especially when Poe steps back into your space, hand again sweeping over your cheek, this time settling at the back of your neck, right before he leans in for a gentle kiss.  
  
Alcohol isn’t the only thing keeping you warm that very moment, that much you know.  
“You need to get some sleep.” Poe kisses the tip of your nose. “Don’t want you in trouble with your boss.” He adds and your face twists in disagreement, making Poe chuckle. “How long are you here for?”  
“Another month, if things go right. Could be longer.”  
“Do you have a cell?”  
“I do.”  
  
Poe plucks his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans, hands you a card embellished with the official Air Force logo. “Usually, I give these to new airmen, in case they need help adjusting being stationed here.” He explains. “The second number is my personal cell. If I don’t reply right away, it’s usually because I’m in a meeting or in the sky.”  
  
You take the card, your fingers carefully tracing the raised letters and logo like it’s the most exquisite thing you’ve ever received. “Thank you.” You whisper and Poe lifts your face by the chin.  
Another kiss, silky-smooth and soft, Poe whispers goodnight before finally breaking away.  
  
He hails a cab close-by, blows you a kiss before getting in.  
“This man spells T-r-o-u-b-l-e alright,” you tell yourself, already saving his name and number in your contacts before you even make it to your room. Fuck waiting the archaic twenty-four hours. This man spells Trouble and you like him already.  
  
To Poe: So... is that Speedo offer for real???  
From Poe: Only if you play hooky. ;-)


	2. Part II: Work Hard, Play Hard

Three large cups of coffee. THREE. That’s how much it takes to get your body moving. And one more just to keep it moving.  
  
Why? Why hadn’t you listened to the rational part of your brain? The one that had said that it was time to go? And how on earth had you caved so easily?  
  
You know exactly why but honestly, you couldn’t have resisted Major Poe “Trouble” Dameron’s invitation if you’d actually tried. Confident charm had you wrapped around his little finger before you even knew what had hit you. And by then, you’d traded Sprite for more bourbon and one shot of Ouzo. Damn!  
  
The memories are a teeny bit fuzzy. New faces. New names. A lot of laughter. Warmth. Comfort. Kisses. And everything with hints of cinnamon and spice. You really did have fun. And what’s the point of being in a place as gorgeous as Crete if you can’t have a little fun.  
  
You play with your cell, reading over Poe’s message for the nth time this morning. ‘ _Only if you play hooky ;-)_ ’ Temptation is strong. So so strong. But you’re already through your second meeting and it’s only eight in the morning. And looking at the schedule, there are three more meetings scribbled in before noon, and five after lunch. It would be wrong to leave now.  
  
“Y/N? Hello?” Your boss’ voice is miles away at first but one more call of your name and your attention shifts from your cell to bright blue eyes. Brows scrunched in concern, your boss sits squared across from you, looking more like his military former self than the civilian he is now. “Anyone home?”  
“Hmmm? What?”  
  
“Wow. So I’ve been talking to a wall the last ten minutes, huh? I asked, if you could please make an extra copy of this report.” Your boss pushes a stack of papers across his desk and you sigh.  
“Sure thing.” You stash your cell in your purse, your face changing to a giddy grin. “Mister Rogers.”  
  
A gravelly groan in response, it amuses you to no end to watch your boss flounder anytime you use his last name.  
“Ugh. Please. I told you, it’s Steve. Mister Rogers makes me sound like...”  
“... like you should be singing “Won’t you be my neighbor?”” You tease with a laugh and Steve’s face twists.  
“Look, there’s nothing wrong with _Mister_ Rogers but basically, yes. It’s already enough that Stark teases me about my namesake. But you? I thought we’re friends.” Steve pouts and you almost feel sorry for him. Only almost.  
  
“Awe. You poor thing. How’d you ever manage through your military career?” You’ve been curious about that for a while now, and the way Steve shifts in his executive chair, you’re suddenly hit with a ‘to much information’ kind of truth. “Oh my god, you like being called Captain!”  
Steve’s cheeks change to a very flustered tint of red.  
“Wow. Mister Steve Rogers has a kink. Who’d have thought?” You cackle on your way to the copier one hallway over, Steve’s voice muffled in reply.  
“I’m still your boss.”  
“Yeah yeah.”  
  
You’re still cackling when you return and you swear Steve’s gotten even redder in the face.  
“It’s not.” He whispers, tries to hide behind a different report, but you can’t let it go now.  
“Oh? So it’s a Sir thing then?”  
Steve chokes on a breath, needs a sip of water. “Jesus, Y/N. Why are we even talking about this?” His voice is rough with desperation and you snicker.  
  
“I’m sorry. Seriously though, if you don’t want people thinking of you as ‘Won’t you be my neighbor’ Mister Rogers, then... well... Never mind.” You bite your tongue at the last second. You’ve never been this candid with Steve, and it’s definitely a bit surprising. He’s your boss, after all. And yes, a friend, too. But that comes second. There are still boundaries. Even if you just teasingly crossed one, you know when it’s time to reel it back a notch or ten.  
  
A quiet minute passes and Steve rounds his desk to stand in front of you. “Don’t hold back now.” He encourages softly and you chuckle. You inhale deeply, sorting the thoughts in your head.  
  
Steve’s not a bad boss. In fact, thanks to him you’re enjoying quite a few extra perks that others in your field only dream about. An extra-large stipend for business clothing. A company credit card for extra traveling expenses on top of your per Diem. A fully paid international cellphone plan. And your very own rental car.  
  
But perks mean nothing if it’s all work and no play. Even Steve must realize that, right? RIGHT? Another breath for courage, a quick glance to your purse. ‘ _Only if you play hooky ;-)_ ’. “We’ve been here what? Two weeks now? I know that you work hard and I admire your dedication to the last detail. But... do you ever... play hard?”  
  
Steve’s defenses go up. You can tell by the way he crosses his arms in front of his chest and by how his jaw sets tight. No going back. You’ve already started speaking your mind, so now or never. You’re in Crete, for crying out loud. Ancient past screams for exploration. And so does the Cretan Sea. And maybe a certain handsome pilot...  
  
“Look, I appreciate the opportunity to be here but there’s more to life than just work. Don’t you want to see the island or go on an adventure instead of sitting in this office all day? You know, work hard, play hard, be lazy hard? Do you even know how to be lazy?” You know it sounds like an accusation, but you’re genuinely curious. Even back in New York, Steve’s always the first at work and the last to leave. Sometimes you wonder if he even goes home.  
  
Steve knows you well enough to know that you don’t mean to ask so brazenly. He relaxes against the desk, swings a leg in front of the other, chuckles softly. “If I had someone to be lazy with...” he starts, but you stop him with a held up hand and shaking head.  
“How are you ever going to find someone if you’re always working? I don’t have anyone either but... we’re in Crete. What better place?”  
  
You can see it behind Steve’s eyes. The clicking gears of contemplation. The realization that all he’s done, since arriving here, is work. Hell, even before the plane had touched down. “A lazy day exploring Chania (Χανιά) does sound nice.” Steve admits. “And all the meetings today are just for talking over things we already know.”  
  
“That’s what happens when the boss is a perfectionist.” You tease and Steve chuckles, again.  
He thinks it over once more. He knows, a day off is well deserved, and unless he wants a mutiny... “Alright. Bright and early tomorrow. Oh-six-hundred hours. I want to look over everything one more time before I meet with the committee. Make sure it’s all there...”  
“Yes, yes, yes. I promise. It’ll all be ready to go, along with your ironed newspaper and fresh coffee.”  
“If you weren’t so great at this job...”  
“I know, I know. I’m irreplaceable.”  
  
It doesn’t take long to cancel the remainder of the meetings. A few quick calls and texts, and the schedule is cleared. It’s nine, by now, and you hope there’s still time.  
  
To Poe: Can I tag along to the beach or is it too late?  
  
The minute between sent and reply seems like eternity, but the second your phone buzzes, you feel like a hurricane sets loose in your stomach. Trembling hands, you swipe to unlock your cell. He’s actually replied.  
  
From Poe: Playing hooky after all?  
To Poe: Yes and no.  
From Poe: ??? Should’ve said yes. Now I don’t have to wear a Speedo. ;-)  
To Poe: You can always wear one under your shorts.  
From Poe: The plan’s to go commando.  
  
And there he goes again. Confident fucker! It’s a good thing you’re already back at the hotel because that right there quite literally had you laughing out loud.  
  
From Poe: You ok over there?  
To Poe: Yes.  
From Poe: Wasn’t too forward, was I?  
To Poe: No. Just cheeky.  
From Poe: Now that, I am. Figuratively and literally. ;-)  
To Poe: I agree. ;-)  
  
Poe arrives thirty minutes later in a black and orange VW Beetle, something that inexplicably makes you laugh. Somehow, you’d pictured him driving this all American muscle car. A Camaro. A Mustang. Or even an Impala. But this? Yet, somehow, it’s endearingly him, more than any big muscle car could ever be.  
  
“I saw you laughing.” Poe takes your bag and stows it in the trunk before he hurries to open the passenger door. “It’s a great car, you know. Gets me from A to B. Cheap on gas. Cheap to fix.” He explains and you try your best not to laugh again.  
“I didn’t say anything.” You defend, still amused and Poe closes the passenger door.  
  
By the time you’re buckled up, Poe is back in the driver’s seat. Car set into gear, Poe waits for traffic to clear, and you take a chance to study his profile. Still ruggedly handsome, you notice a few more lines here and there, and a few gray hairs between all black at the right-side temple. His stubble is more prominent today. And his lashes are even longer than you remember, framing those dark eyes of his perfectly.  
  
You imagine, he got away with a lot of things when he was younger. With eyes like that and that easy smile, you’re certain he got away with a lot of things...  
  
Another second, Poe finally pulls away from the curb and with it you from wondering thoughts. “It’s not far. By car that is.” He explains, his voice raspy low, and you nod.  
“I could’ve driven. The company gave me a rental.”  
“I know, but this is easier. Specially if you’re still coming along to the barbecue after.” Poe eyes you nervously from the side as if you’d change your mind this very second.  
A reassuring smile puts Poe at ease. “Looking forward to it.” You emphasize.  
“Me, too.”  
  
A wistful gaze out the window, you notice you’ve left the outskirts of Chania. An expanse of olive groves and rural roads take the place of busy streets, a few whitewashed stone houses peppered in between. It looks quiet, peaceful, like a different world where time doesn’t exist.  
  
“Have you had a chance to explore the island?” Poe’s voice redirects your attention and you sigh.  
“Sadly, no.”  
“Ah. Still plenty of time to do that.”  
  
There it is again. That knowing look with an easy smile and those gorgeous and curious and mischievous eyes. If you’re not careful, you may just lose your heart in Crete. Or maybe, you already have? “So, is it a competitive volleyball or just for fun volleyball kind of beach day?”  
Poe laughs. “A bit of both. We got a few squads showing up today. Warm-up will be the fun part. Playing against the squads is the competitive part, which, I’m sorry to say, you’ll only be able to watch.”  
  
You give Poe a once-over, noting his very casual clothing, and smirk. “Watching can be fun.”  
“Yeah? Hmmmm... maybe I should’ve worn the Speedos.” Poe waggles his brows and you laugh. “Which reminds me. Why the yes and no?”  
“Yes and no?”  
“When I asked if you’re playing hooky. You replied yes and no.”  
  
Another sigh. Another wistful gaze out the window. “It’s not really playing hooky when you convince the boss for a day off.”  
“Oh? So what convinced him?” Poe waits patiently as you think over how to answer.  
It’s not difficult, but conversation on recall, you’re still surprised how forward you’d been. “An honest talk.” You reply at last and Poe looks a bit worried.  
  
“Didn’t get you fired, did it?”  
You laugh softly at the concern. “No. If anything, it may have opened his eyes a little.”  
“Does that mean more days off?” Poe looks hopeful.  
“Not sure, yet. Maybe?”  
“Hmmmmm, in that case, we gotta figure out a way to make the maybe a definitely.” Poe waggles his brows again. Yup, this one’s Trouble. The good kind, have fun, enjoy life a little Trouble, and if you’re not careful, he’ll have you leave your heart in Crete.  
  
Another ten minutes down rural roads, Poe turns left at a sign reading “Παραλία Καλαθά /Paralia Kalatha”. He parks his VW Beetle in a lot near a long stretch of beach, giant parasols lining at least one-third of the sandy area.  
  
Past that, some noise catches your attention. You have to lean slightly to see, but there, at the end of the stretch, several volleyball courts take up space, along with ten or so picnic tables.  
“Was I supposed to bring anything?” You worry as you watch Poe lug a huge, rolling cooler from the trunk of his car, but he shakes his head.  
He passes your bag to you, shoulders his backpack, then takes lead down to the beach. “Just yourself, όμορφο (ómorfo).”  
  
Walking down a well-trodden path, you’re glad that you’d opted for long leggings and a long-sleeved shirt. The air is a lot cooler than it seems. Hopefully, by high noon, it’ll be a bit warmer. The way Poe is dressed -beach shorts and a basic blue tee- you assume that it will be.  
  
Another minute of walking and Poe waves at the group sitting at the center table. Before you know what’s happening, you’re surrounded and hugged and cheek-kissed by six or so people.  
“So glad you could make it.” Rey’s English accent makes you giggle. And the fact that she takes your hand and pulls you away from Poe. “Come. Come. Got to introduce you to the rest of the gang.”  
  
“It was wonderful, while it lasted.” Poe sighs dramatically behind you and Rey laughs wholeheartedly.  
“What’s the matter, Poe? Afraid we might tell a few stories on you?” Rey cackles and Poe’s eyes go wide.  
“For once, please, could you not scare my date away?”  
  
You’re taken aback for a moment, just one breath, and Poe sheepishly rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “I mean... you know. Friend date? Friend? Uhm...”  
Wow! What happened to suave? What happened to mischievous? Where’s the roguish charm? You free your hand from Rey, laugh softly, and lean a kiss on Poe’s cheek, and you swear he turns slightly red at the ears. “A date it is.” You whisper back.  
  
A beat lost in rich brown eyes then soft silk and the tiniest hint of wet velvet, you don’t hear the cheers until Poe’s lips leave yours.  
“Whoop whoop.... get a room, you two.” Someone yells and you bury your face in Poe’s tee. God, does he smell nice. Cinnamon and spice and something distinctively him. And god, does he feel nice. Warm and firm and somehow soft at the same time...  
“Shut up, Iolo.”  
“Or what?”  
“Kitchen duty?”  
The threat is drowned out by boisterous laughter. Not even you are immune.  
  
“Stop hogging your date. Come.” Rey re-takes your hand and pulls you to the table. “You already know my husband, Finn. Next to him are the Tico sisters, Paige and Rose. Then you’ve got Bastian, Ello, and Sara. And last but not least is Nien.”  
  
Again, you wave a bit shyly at the new faces, but it’s easier to speak up today. “Are you all in the same squad?”  
Rose shakes her head. “Civilian contractor. Paige and I run a garage on base.”  
“Nice. But why here?” You take a seat at the table and just like that, conversation flows.  
  
It’s a lot of back and forth. A lot of questions. A lot of answers. Turns out that Paige is a former Air Force engineer turned civilian mechanic, and Crete is now her home. Bastian, Ello, Sara, and Nien are in a different flight than Poe, as they’ve corrected you, but under the same squadron commander, Lt. Col. Temmin “Snap” Wexley.  
  
“I’m sorry, how does it go again?” You ask, confused by the hierarchy and Bastian replies.  
“Three jets is one section. Two sections per flight. Three to five flights per squadron. Three squadrons per group. Two groups per wing. Poe is the CO of his flight, but Snap is his Squadron Commander, who reports to the group commander and they report to the wing commander.”  
  
You must be looking even more confused than before because Poe chuckles a kiss onto your temple, then soothingly rubs a thumb over hand. “Don’t worry, ómorfo. All you have to know is that I’m Iolo’s boss, Snap is my boss, and Brigadier General Solo commands the Wing.”  
Eyes round, you chuckle. “It’s a good thing I haven’t had a drink. This is already giving me a headache.”  
  
“See what you did, Poe? You gave Y/N a headache.” Karé sits next to you, rubs a hand down your back.  
“That’s not what she said. She said she’s close to getting one. Anyways, enough about work. Let’s go warm-up.” Poe redirects. He pulls you to the closest volleyball court, the rest of the group joining you, except Karé. She cradles her tiny bump, watches from the sidelines.  
  
You’re not a pro-player, but you know the basic rules. A few quick passes, a few fast digs, and at least one perfect block and you wish you’d worn shorts. Good thing warm-up is almost done.  
  
“I see you’ve got a new player.” Dark and rather broody-looking, another player approaches your group and stretches out his hand. “Ben Solo.” He introduces himself rather stiffly and for a moment you don’t know what to say.  
“Uhm... Y/N.”  
“A new pilot?” Ben lifts a serious brow but before you can reply, Poe intervenes.  
“A guest.” He says coldly and squared, and just like that Ben walks off.  
  
“Solo? He looks rather young to be a general.” You look after Ben who meets up with a different group, most of the people in it as tall as him.  
“That’s Lieutenant Solo. General Solo is his father.” Poe’s voice is still cold.  
“Hmmmm. Bad blood?” You prod carefully and Poe shakes his head.  
“Between the general and me, no. Between Ben and me, a little.”  
“Do I want to know why?”  
“It’s complicated but long story short, the Lieutenant thought he’d fly through the ranks a bit faster with his father being in the upper ranks, but the General doesn’t do favors, so the Lieutenant is a little sour.”  
  
Poe hitches a breath, sweeps a hand over your cheek. “No more work talk.” He smiles, kisses the tip of your nose and you hide an abashed smile. “Time to watch us play. Good thing, too. Might get distracted if I take off my shirt for you and then we’ll lose our bragging rights.” He bites his bottom lip and you push him back at the chest, laughing, before a quick peck to his lips.  
  
The matches are fast at first. A best-of-three approach, it’s a quick weeding out of less coordinated teams. Poe’s team, “The Rapiers” as Karé points out, is in the last four and now up against “The Titans”, a fitting term for the tall players in Ben’s team.  
  
One thing’s certain. What Poe lacks in height, he makes up with speed. He’s on fire with perfect passes and light-speed digs. And with Iolo’s perfect spikes and Temmin blocking, the match is over in less than thirty minutes. It doesn’t go past that Ben scowls in annoyance, even avoids a post-game handshake with Poe, but Poe takes it in stride.  
  
“Last one.” He huffs while Karé tosses him a water.  
You slowly make your way to Poe, hang your arms around his neck. “Need another kiss for good luck?”  
“Please.” Poe’s all sweat and sand, but it doesn’t deter you. If anything, he looks even better now. Hot and bothered. It definitely stirs something inside. Especially when he adds some tongue to the kiss. “efcharistó, ómorfo.” He smiles quite cheekily.  
  
“What’s that mean? Not efcharistó. The second word.”  
Poe leans in, kisses the shell of your ear. “Beautiful one.” He whispers, then makes his way back to the court. It’s a good thing Poe doesn’t take off his shirt. You’re close to spontaneous combustion after that exchange, especially when he winks at you on his way to his peers.  
  
This time, the match lasts almost an hour, the teams equally good in attacks and blocks. It’s down to a tie and whoever gains the last two points, will win.  
  
Jessika serves. The opposing team passes, sets, and attacks. Rapier squadron defends. Repeat. The ball crosses the net a record ten times without falling or reaching out of bounds. And defeated teams grow loud as they cheer on their favorite finalists. So loud, you’re sure the ancient gods can hear them all the way to Mount Olympus a few hundred miles away. This is definitely a passionate bunch. And you’re right here, cheering too. “Go team Rapier! Go Poe!”  
  
Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. More cheering. And then...  
...it’s done. All it takes is a stumble and a missed pass, and the game is over. 24-26 to Rogue Squadron. Despite the loss and sweat running down his face, Poe doesn’t look defeated when he hugs the opposing team’s captain. They even talk a few minutes before parting ways.  
  
“That’s my former CO.” Poe wipes his face with a towel, points to the slender man with wispy brown hair. “He’s the group commander now. Colonel Andor.” He further explains, then goes silent.  
“And mentor?” You assume.  
The way Poe nods and smiles, he doesn’t have to answer, but he does anyways. “Mentor and family friend. My mother went to school with him. Even introduced her to my dad.” Poe’s eyes lose some shine, so you don’t ask anything else.  
  
Cleanup is a military precision type of teamwork. Poe helps collect empty water bottles and snack pouches, as do you. Some flights move the rented picnic tables back into their original places while others help take down the nets. It all takes less than ten minutes and you stand somewhat impressed.  
  
“Looks like we’re good to go.” Karé shoulders an enormous beach bag but Snap won’t have it.  
“I’ll take that, thank you.”  
“You know, I can still do stuff, right?” Karé gives Snap an icy stare and Snap backs off.  
“Yes. I know you can. Indulge me, my queen?” He bows to his wife and Karé pretends to knight her husband.  
  
“Anways... We’ll see you later? At the barbecue?” Karé links arms with you, pulls you up the path to the cars.  
“Hell yeah. I’m starving!” You confirm and Snap laughs.  
He elbows Poe, nods. “I like her.”  
“Hmmmm... me, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm taking liberties with ages here. Cassian is about 50ish in this story. A young 50ish. There has to be an age gap to Poe to have it make sense.


	3. Part III: R&R

  
  
The drive towards Μουζουράς (Mouzouras) takes fifteen minutes. Once there, you see what Poe had meant by “this is easier”. At the gate to base, he’s pulled over for vehicle inspection by one guard while you wait for another guard to verify your identification.  
  
It doesn’t take long, but the guards make it very clear that as a guest, you’re only allowed to stay twenty-four hours and must stay with or close to the person who’s signed you in.  
“Geez. Steve’s told me about this.” You mumble when you’re back in the car and Poe chuckles.  
“Military life.”  
  
Poe drives slowly and you look around. Things are quite different here. Square, aligned, and in very boring beige, each building looks like the previous’s clone. The grass is manicured to an inch of height and trees are evenly spaced. Lacquered signs with heavy brass letters show what each building houses.  
  
It’s a stark contrast to Poe. At least to what you know about him so far. It’s difficult seeing him in this environment. Rigid routine, geometric conformity, almost colorless and boring. Poe is none of those things.  
  
A gentle shudder, the car is set into park in front of another very square building, the letters BOQ hanging large above the entrance.  
“BOQ?”  
“Bachelor Officers Quarters.” Poe chuckles nervously. “Listen. Uhm... I didn’t think of this before but uhmm... if you like, I can ask one of the female officers for you to use their shower. You know, if you’re not comfortable using mine cause we’ve only just met. I mean, we’re not gonna shower together or anything like that... But you know... Unless you don’t wanna shower, of course. Totally up to you. You look great already. But uhmm... I have to cause I’m stinky... also, I have sand in places, I’d rather not...”  
  
Poe’s adorable when he rambles. More so when he’s nervous. His ears tinge dark red at the helixes and he even has a difficult time keeping eye contact. You venture it doesn’t happen often, with how confident he’s been thus far. But it’s endearing. Makes him even more likable.  
“Poe.”  
“Yes?”  
“Shut up.”  
“‘Kay.”  
“Poe.”  
“Yes?”  
You sniff your own shirt, make a face. “I think a shower is a great idea.”  
  
Poe chuckles, again, kills the engine at last. He grabs everything from the trunk, paces to the door. A swipe of a magnetic keycard and you’re granted access. The building is as lifeless inside as it is outside. Linoleum flooring, off-white walls, cold steel railings, it smells of strong disinfectant cleaners, looks eerie with harsh fluorescent lighting and empty hallways. If it wasn’t for bold numbers, you’d not have any idea what floor you’re on.  
  
“Sorry, no elevator.” Poe apologizes after the first set of stairs.  
“It’s okay. As long as I don’t have to run.” You’re amazed that Poe doesn’t break a sweat even though he’s carrying two bags and a cooler. Meanwhile, you could just drop right here and take a break. At least, he doesn’t live all the way upstairs. But the third floor is plenty of extra exercise for the day.  
  
Down a long hallway, Poe stops in front of BOQ-325, this time using a regular key to open the door. “Also, sorry about the mess. Haven’t had time to clean.” He snickers, and stepping in, it’s somehow how you’d imagined his room would be and very different from what’s right outside the door.  
  
It’s not dirty or overly messy, with a few stray items here and there, but it’s not to military standards clean or conformity, that much you can tell. There’s color on the walls in the form of concert and movie posters. A bright blanket lays rumpled across a military issued sofa, the blanket looking handmade.  
  
The shelf against the inside wall is stuffed to the brim with books, looking like a game of Tetris with vertical and horizontal lines. A PlayStation sits nestled atop a media center and below a wall-anchored TV, and tchotchkes take up space on numerous surfaces. There’s even a small Christmas tree on the coffee table. An odd location for anyone else, but somehow not for Poe.  
  
“It’s nice. Bigger than I thought. Steve always says his quarters were crammed but ... this is just the living room?”  
“Yes. The bathroom is through that door past the entrance, the bedroom is through the door past the kitchenette.” Poe points to the opposite side you’ve been looking at and you do a one-eighty.  
“Not bad. True bachelor style living.” You snicker and so does Poe.  
  
He watches as you walk around. It’s like an automatic thing. You open the fridge, check what he has. Open cabinets just to peek inside. Test one of the stove-top burners. Somehow, it’s endearing, Poe decides. “So Steve is your boss, I take it?”  
“Yes.”  
“Was he in the Air Force?”  
“No. In the Army. An officer, too, though.”  
“I see. That explains the crammed quarters then.”  
  
You pause your inspection, brows scrunched. “How do you mean?”  
Poe laughs softly, makes his way to you. “Different branch, different way how they treat their people. As airmen we are a little spoiled, I guess. But usually, Army quarters are way smaller than Air Force quarters.”  
  
Stopping in front of you, Poe plays with the hem of your long-sleeved shirt, kisses you softly, then steps back. He runs a hand softly down your arm, plays with your fingers. The gears are turning when he drags a lingering gaze down your body and back up. “I know, I talk a lot.” He starts, his face almost hard with how serious he’s suddenly become. “Make a lot of jokes. But... I want you to know... I’m not expecting anything.”  
  
Poe keeps playing with your fingers, waits for the words to settle in. He’s been all fun and games thus far. Confidence personified with a dash of shy here and there because he’s only human, after all. Silence adds to the weight of the moment. This man knows no means no, stop means stop, but he clearly needs confirmation that you understand.  
  
And you do. That, and that consent goes both ways. You palm Poe’s face, rough stubble tickling your hand. “The same goes for me.” You assure and Poe leans into your touch. It’s a good thing to get some things out of the way early on, even if it breaks a tender moment.  
  
“Let me get you a towel.” Poe whispers, disappears to the bedroom. He talks before he returns to the living room. “I don’t have a hairdryer but I can ask one of the other officers, if you need one. And there’s extra soap in the cabinet under the sink. It’s perfume free. Or you can use mine. Same goes for shampoo. There’s also an extra toothbrush. Not that you need it. But it’s there. I mean, I don’t have guests over often but you know, it’s always good to have the little things on hand...”  
  
Poe truly is adorable when he’s nervous. “I’ll be quick.” You promise, take the towel from his hands, and grab your bag with spare clothes on the way.  
  
The bathroom seems up to military code. It’s cold and very, very, VERY white. Poe’s essentials are neatly aligned on the available surfaces here and his tags hang from a hook next to the mirror. Considering how tiny this space is, you can see why. It’s a three-quarter style room with sink, a shower, and a toilet, and just enough space to change when needed.  
  
You play with Poe’s tags, rub over the embossed letters of his name and what you’re sure is his service number. The tiny cabinet under the sink is next and indeed there is extra soap and shampoo, but the black bottle inside the shower seems more tempting. You pop it open, take a sniff. Cinnamon and spice. He did say you could use it, so you do.  
  
“You didn’t have to hurry.” Poe points out when you’re out of the bathroom in less than ten minutes. “We don’t have to be there until eight-ish. Plenty of time left.”  
“I know. But I’m guessing you want to take a long shower, with all the running you did.”  
Poe’s chest rises with a long breath. “I really do.” He admits.  
  
He grabs a change of clothes from his bedroom, offers you to “make yourself at home” on his way back, and gives you a squint when you ask if that means you get to snoop around. “Just kidding.”  
“Good. Nothing classified stored here anyways.”  
  
You laugh, make your way to the fridge and steal a Sprite. When you hear the shower, you walk around the living room. You take a closer look at the books, notice that there are a lot on theories of flying and mathematics and astronautics as well as a collection of poems by Pablo Neruda and Rainer Maria Rilke.  
  
The trinkets seem from all over the world. Matryoshkas line one of the windowsills. A Turkish tea set for two stands next to the PlayStation. A couple of Jing masks hang next to a vertical scroll painting. A kintsugi style repaired mug rest atop the bookshelf. You wonder if Poe fixed it himself since the Mug bears a carefully reassembled Air Force logo.  
  
The antique-looking desk in the far corner of the living room is covered in charts and complex blueprints, neither of which you even attempt to understand. A couple of university degrees framed in black hang above. Right next to that is a picture of Poe with a man similar in looks, except with a lot more gray hair; and below that, another frame; inside is a picture of a young family, the three of them all smiles.  
  
You recognize the man as the same from the other picture, although here he has jet-black hair. And the toddler is clearly Poe. The eyes, the smile, the mischievous curiosity. It’s the same today as it was then. The woman, though, makes you pause. Thick black curls frame her young face. Her eyes are just as dark. But it’s the smile that catches your attention -bright and full of life-, and suddenly you remember the moment at the beach. Maybe, one day, Poe will tell you about his parents.  
  
You explore a little further. A peek into the bedroom reveals a queen sized bed covered in dark blue sheets, comforter, and pillows, another shelf filled with books, and in a corner -almost lonely looking- stands an acoustic guitar, the body and pick guard showing its age. Interesting.  
  
It would be easy to step inside, maybe take a peek inside the closets, but somehow that doesn’t feel right. This room needs extra permission, more than a “make yourself at home” invitation, even if you’re hundred percent certain that Poe wouldn’t mind.  
  
“We can go lie down. Take a nap. Or snuggle.”  
Poe’s voice makes you jump and fall right into his arms. “Jesus. Shit. Don’t do that!” You turn in his hold and are met with a smirk.  
A kiss to your nose, Poe chuckles out a sorry before he takes your hand to follow him into the bedroom.  
“Poe...”  
“Just snuggles. Promise.” Poe’s face is warm, no mischief this time. And he does look cozy in a simple white tee and gray joggers.  
  
Poe is first to crawl onto his bed, opens his left arm invitingly, and you follow him, snuggle into his side.  
“Hmmmm... you used my shampoo.” Poe plays with your hair, laughs softly.  
“It smells good.”  
  
Poe’s hand travels to your arm. He draws wispy lines over and over, kisses into your hair from time to time. “We still need to figure out how to turn maybe into definitely. You said your boss doesn’t have anyone, right?”  
“I said I think he doesn’t have a life outside of work. Why do you ask? Are you planning on playing Cupid?” You peek up Poe’s chest and he chuckles.  
“I mean... why not. Maybe, if he met someone. What’s his type?”  
  
“Tall.” You answer before you can think.  
“Like Karé tall or Jessika tall.” Poe watches as you chew your bottom lip. He’s serious about this. “Come on. Tell me.”  
“Okay. But don’t make any comments or jokes.” You warn sternly and Poe crosses his heart. “Steve’s type is more like... Snap.”  
“Oh, so like tall tall?”  
  
Poe doesn’t get it. Not right away. But when you stay quiet, he mentally rewinds to what you’ve said. “Wait. Like... Snap. So Steve’s...”  
“Gay. Yes. No jokes!” You warn again.  
“I’m wasn’t going to. It just means I have to nix the list of possibles I had.” Poe’s voice is steady, earnest, while he rubs over his chin. “I’ll figure something out. If not, we can always invite your boss to tag along.”  
“Let’s not get carried away.” You stare horrified at Poe and he laughs.  
  
Poe tugs you into his body, keeps petting your arm. You watch as he sets an alarm on his cell with his free hand, snuggle closer to him when he stays quiet. You listen to his breathing, move gently with the steady rise and fall of his chest and the beat of his heart...  
  
The alarm rips you from sleep moments later, or so it seems. “Wow. Did I really fall asleep?”  
“You sure did, ómorfo.” Poe’s voice is raspy, heavy, and a little amused.  
You shift in Poe’s hold, peek over his chest and are met with that mischievous smile of his.  
“Hi.”  
“Hi.” You snicker. Poe’s face looks as sleepy as you feel. “Sleep well?”  
“Very. You?”  
“Very.” You mirror his response.  
  
It’s comfortable here, nestled safely into Poe’s side, and you wish you could stay this way forever, but your stomach has needs.  
“Was that your tummy?” Poe laughs when he hears the low growl.  
Abashed, you bury your face. “Shuddup.”  
Poe keeps laughing, tickles you to coax you out of hiding. “It’s kinda cute.” He snickers, then inhales deeply. “I guess that means we better get up.”  
“I guess.” Really, you want to stay snuggled up, but you’re also hungry.  
  
It takes a few stretches. A few long sighs. And maybe a few stolen kisses, but you both finally make it out of bed and downstairs to Poe’s car. You’ve just buckled in when Poe notices you shiver. “Did you bring a jacket?”  
You side-eye Poe, note the thick sweater. “No. Thought a long-sleeved shirt and jeans would be enough.”  
Poe starts the car, turns up the heat. “I’ll be right back.” He promises before he jogs back to the building.  
  
Not five minutes later, he’s back in the car, handing you an oversized zippered hoodie and a standard issue scarf. “It’s not the most fashionable thing I have but it’s warm.” And it definitely is. “Thanks.” You whisper sheepishly and Poe sets the car into drive.  
  
It’s already dark but you notice the area you’re driving to changing from rigid conformity to something resembling suburbia. It’s still somewhat neat, with cookie cutter houses and manicured front lawns, but the trees stand more naturally apart. There are playgrounds and basketball courts, a few forgotten bikes and toys in between. The streets actually curve here and there, and a few houses are decorated for the season, although far more subdued than what you know from home.  
  
“Snap’s house is at the end.” Poe announces as he slows to fifteen miles per hour. Another minute and he double-parks in a sizable driveway leading to a very sizable house.  
“Wow. This is Snap’s place?” You look around, noting the lush green grass and perfect Mediterranean fan palms decorated with holiday lights.  
  
“Snap and Karé’s, yes. That’s what the military supplies when you go up in ranks and are married.” Poe explains. “Told you, we’re a little spoiled in the Air Force.”  
You look around again, wonder if a landscaping service keeps the place neat or if it’s Snap who mows the lawn. “Only a little?”  
“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” Poe makes a face and you shrug, then laugh.  
“Just teasing.”  
  
Poe doesn’t ring the doorbell or knock. He just lets himself in. It’s a good thing too, that he enters first. A blur of golden fur tackles Poe to the ground, licks Poe’s face until he can barley breathe from laughter. “Stop. Stop. Chewie. Stop. I don’t have treats.”  
It’s Karé to the rescue. She pulls the Golden Retriever from Poe, scolds the pup before sending him outside. “You made it! Leave your shoes on. We’re going out back.”  
  
Before you can say anything, Karé already has her arm linked with yours, pulls you from foyer through kitchen to the living room. You chance a quick glance around the last. It’s big and homey and cheery, with a large Christmas tree in one corner. String-lights are perched on curtain rods and around windows. Poinsettias add hues of red on open surfaces.  
  
Through a sliding door, Karé leads you to a covered patio decorated with more string-lights and wreaths and garlands. “They’re here!” She calls cheerily over music and conversation. “You hungry? Of course, you are. We have burgers and hot dogs. Rose brought galbi and Paige made kimchi. It’s so good! We got potato salad and deviled eggs. Pasta salad and there’s a fruit and cheese platter. And soda and beer. You want a beer?”  
  
“Sweetheart, you’re kind of overwhelming our guest.” Snap teases from the grill, flipping a burger.  
“It’s okay. I am actually hungry.” You snicker and Karé pulls you to the buffet style setup where she pushes a plate into your hand before leaving you to your own devices. Apparently, Chewie has stolen a hot dog and now Karé chases after him.  
  
From your peripheral, warm and cozy in Poe’s zippered hoodie and scarf, you watch as Poe hugs Snap before moving on to other friends to do the same. All of Rapier Squadron seems in attendance and then some. You recognize a few extra faces from the beach, specifically Poe’s former CO, Colonel Andor, with whom Poe is now chatting up a storm.  
  
Next to the Colonel stands a short woman with a slender face but with a very rounded belly. The way she leans against Colonel Andor and the way he hugs her close and kisses into her hair, you assume her to be his wife.  
  
You make your way to the small group, overhear Poe talking in Spanish before he greets you with a kiss. “Y/N, this is Cassian Andor, Cass for short, and this is his way better half, Jyn.” Poe introduces and you stretch out your hand; first to Jyn, then Cass.  
  
From afar you couldn’t tell neither’s age but now... Cass looks maybe forty-five, Jyn maybe late thirties. But Poe had said that Cass had known his parents, been peers. He’d have to be older? Or maybe Poe is younger than you think. You decide it doesn’t matter. Everyone plans their life differently. Some start early, some wait, some may never expand to a large family. All that matters is that the Andors look happy together.  
  
“I saw you at the beach.” Cass has a warm raspy accent, adding softness to his already gentle face.  
Looking between Poe and Cass, it’s still difficult to believe that Cass is the higher rank, the older man. It’s not necessarily that Cass looks the same age as Poe. It’s more about Cass’ frame and how he holds himself. “And you’re a Colonel?” You ask with held disbelief and Cass laughs gently.  
“I’m a lot older than I look.” His eyes crinkle at the corners, adding a few years to his youthful face, but it’s still difficult to believe.  
  
“I think it’s the fact that we’re pilots. Keeps us young.” Poe waggles his brows, and you and Jyn burst out laughing.  
“Is Cass this confident?”  
Jyn, still laughing, nods. “They have the big egos to go with the confidence.”  
“I agree.”  
  
Poe, mouth agape, points an incredulous finger from Jyn to you. “I cannot believe you’ve already been corrupted. You’ve only known my friends for a day.”  
“Awe. Come here. Let me kiss your bruised ego.” You tease and Poe pouts, then squints at you.  
“You’re not allowed to hang out with Jyn. Or Karé. Or Rey for that matter.”  
You turn to Jyn, grin giddily. “So, shopping trip? I’ll go see if Rey and Karé are game. Haven’t had a chance to explore the city.”  
“Love the idea. I need to get a few more things before I pop.”  
Poe’s dramatic “nooooooooo” is background noise when you chat up Rey and Karé, the women enthusiastically agreeing to the idea.  
  
The rest of the evening is spent between different groups. Sometimes, Poe is at your side. Sometimes, he watches from afar. He may have teased you about not seeing Jyn and Karé and Rey, but that’s all it was. Poe isn’t the possessive, has to have you all to himself type. It’s a comfortable balance of by your side and space. You get to know Poe’s friends on your terms, not through stories about them. Even exchange a few numbers.  
  
“So, you gonna join us for Christmas Eve?” Iolo asks. He’s holding a skewer over the fire pit, the marshmallow at the end burning to a near crisp before he moves it between a couple of crackers with a chocolate bar.  
“I wish I could, but we have a company event, so.” You shrug.  
“What? On Christmas Eve? Boooooo! Call out sick.” Iolo nudges but you shake your head.  
  
“It’s one of those ‘have to show your face’ events.” You explain.  
“But does it mean ‘stay until the end’?” Poe chimes in.  
“Why? You planning on rescuing me?” You ask cheekily and you can see the gears turning behind Poe’s eyes.  
“What if I am?”  
  
Those damn waggling brows. That damn, up-to-no-good smile. Poe topping it off with a cocky wink leaves you in stitches.  
T-r-o-u-b-l-e. “I’m sorry.” You catch your breath, glance at your watch, lips twisting. “On that note. I really should get going. Promised my boss I’d be there early to review some papers.”  
A unison “boooooo”, whoever hasn’t left at this point huddles around you to wish you a goodnight.  
  
“You sure you can drive?” You ask Poe on the way to his car.  
“Very. I only had one beer. It’s been a couple of hours.” He promises. A short stop at the gate, Poe signs you out before heading out to Chania.  
  
“I’m glad you had fun.” He smiles with focus on the road. “You had fun, right?”  
You caress the side of his face, rough stubble like sandpaper on your skin. “I did. Very much. Thank you.”  
“Good.” Poe captures your hand, kisses the back, keeps holding on for the rest of the way. “Very good. We all need a break now and then.”  
  
It’s almost midnight by the time you reach your hotel. Poe pulls up to the drop-off point, sets the car into park. He sweeps a hand down your cheek, pulls you close, kisses you softly. Forehead leaning against forehead, Poe holds you just a little while longer. “Text me, okay? When you have time.”  
“Okay.”  
  
Poe kisses you again, adds a hint of tongue. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he unbuckles your belt. “Get some rest, ómorfo.”  
“Okay.” You promise. “Oh... your hoodie...”  
“Keep it. It suits you.” Poe leans in for one more kiss. And one more. Maybe two. Three...  
  
One last heated kiss, you finally grab your bag and exit Poe’s car. You wave when Poe turns around at the exit, sigh solemnly when you reach your room. You’re brushing your teeth when you hear the chime of your cell.  
  
From Poe: Is the event closed to the general public?  
To Poe: Kind of. Company rep rented out a bar. Friends and family. No kids, though. Are you driving?  
From Poe: No. Pulled over. So, the event? List or invitation?  
To Poe: List.  
From Poe: Time & location?  
To Poe: 5ish to closing. A place called Rock 53? Or Rock Bar 53?  
From Poe: Really? That’s perfect. :-D  
To Poe: What are you up to?  
From Poe: A Christmas miracle?  
To Poe: You’re Trouble.  
From Poe: But so worth it. ;-)


	4. Part IV: Paint My Spirit Gold*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smexy times ahead.  
> The final Part will be up Friday, Jan 29.

**  
**Outfit inspiration for reader. ****

  
  
You smooth out the dress, turn to look at yourself in the floor-length mirror from all angles. You pick a bit here, pinch a bit there. The girls had said it looks great. And that adding thick blue thigh-highs adds cute to sexy. Not in a million years would you’ve picked a gray knit sweater-dress. Not when left to your own devices. But peer pressure had won.  
  
You swipe your cell from the dresser, take a selfie and hit send, then fall defeated onto your bed, the breath getting pushed out of you when your body meets the mattress.  
  
To Karé, Rey, & Jyn: I don’t know. I look potato-ish.  
From Karé: No you don’t! You look hella cute!  
From Rey: Excuse me! You look sexy! Show off those curves!!!  
From Jyn: Sophisticated sexy and cute!  
  
To Karé, Rey, & Jyn: :-)* Thank you, ladies. So... what is Poe up to? I know at least one of you knows. -_-  
From Karé: We don’t know.  
From Rey: Not a clue.  
From Jyn: Isn’t he always up to something?  
  
You laugh. That’s Poe in a single sentence right there, and thanks to the girls, you now know a few reasons why.  
  
You pick yourself up, add the finishing touches to your makeup. The blue-gold earrings had been Jyn’s pick, and the blue tie-up ankle boots had been on sale, found by Karé at the last minute.  
  
You smile when you dab away excess lipstick. It had been more than a shopping trip. More than a make-new-friends kind of afternoon. The girls had asked about intentions, unfiltered and forward, and you’d answered, unfiltered and forward.  
  
The stamp of approval had come in form of stories about their significant others that would only be told to someone trusted. How else would you know that Snap once had to retrieve his unmentionables from a flagpole; or that Cass had nearly set the house on fire with a “fixed” toaster; or that Finn knows all the lyrics to Let It Go and Do You Wanna Build A Snowman?  
  
“Sounds like great dad material to me.” You’d pointed out.  
“Not for a long while. We want to travel a bit more. Save money.” Rey had countered, and really you can’t blame her. At barely twenty-five, Rey is the youngest in the group. There’s plenty of time left for her and Finn to decide on big life events.  
  
You do another three-sixty. Now that the whole outfit is put together, along with a new clutch in hand, you decide that you really do look sophisticated-sexy and cute. And a little holiday-esque. Definitely very appropriate for a company event held at a place called RockBar FiftyThree.  
  
You send another picture to the girls and they approve with hearts and party hat emoticons. Then it’s time to call a cab.  
  
The bar is both upscale and homey. You can’t describe it otherwise. The layout is sleek and dark with plenty of hidden lighting along sharp edges. But whoever owns this place clearly loves the holiday season.  
  
Whatever surface can hold garlands and decorations without interfering is holding garlands and decorations. A lot of red and gold adds a warm glow, and so do flame-less candles centered in small wreaths. People mingle with colorful drinks in hand. And a live band is covering Queen’s Thank God It’s Christmas.  
  
Familiar faces greet you, beside them their significant others or friends. A few times, you’re asked if you’re here alone, and you always answer “Not exactly. Here to help the boss. Once I find him, that is.” Of course, you know that the real question is “Do you have a significant other?” Thank god for your knack of fast diversion and mediation. You’re able to avoid an actual answer, steering conversations to your liking, not theirs.  
  
Now, if only you could find Steve! It’s not like he’s hard to miss. Tall and broad-shouldered, handsome and usually very well-dressed, often a little stiff, he tends to stand out. But looking around, you don’t see anyone fitting his description. Might as well grab one of those colorful drinks in search of him.  
  
The bartender introduces herself as Natasha. And she definitely stands out with her fire-red hair and beautiful green eyes, and the fact that she speaks perfect English. “Is this your bar?” You ask above the noise and she offers a lopsided smile.  
  
“I wish. No. Just working here. The boss-man is walking around here somewhere, though.” Natasha finishes mixing your drink, moves to the next patron who clearly thinks he stands a chance with the cliché pickup line of “Heaven must be missing an angel.”  
You laugh at Natasha’s hard eye-roll and at her response of “No, but Hell is missing a demon.”  
  
You search the vicinity again. No Steve. Again! You’re about to check your cell for missed messages when a chime announces a new one.  
  
From Poe: What’s your boss look like?  
To Poe: Tall, muscular, blond hair. Likely wearing an all navy or black suit with a red poppy on the left lapel. Oh. And he’s got a beard.  
From Poe: Last name Rogers?  
To Poe: Yes... how’d you... where are you?  
  
You hear before you see Steve. His laugh is unmistakable. It’s loud, it’s wholehearted, and you bet he’s grabbing his left pectoral while his head falls back. You also know it’s a rare thing to make him laugh like this.  
  
You follow the noise to the back of the bar, a pair of French doors leading to an outside section with a small dance floor. In the distance, several boats sway with the current of the Cretan Sea, their sails, masts, and hulls decorated with waterproof lights. A reminder that it’s Christmas Eve far away from home.  
  
Another laugh proves that you’d been right in your assumption. You catch Steve throw his whole body in, including his signature left pectoral grab, but he straightens out when he spots you. “Y/N. Was wondering where you were hiding.” Steve waves you over to his small group. From afar, you recognize Happy Hogan and his protectee, Tony Stark aka the Big Boss, but not the tall and built brunette across from Steve. He is new. And where the hell is Poe?  
  
Another thunderous laugh, you finally make your way over, Steve pulling you into an uncharacteristically tight hug. Someone’s in a great mood. Or someone’s already had more than two very strong drinks. Either way, you pat Steve’s back, your voice muffled when you say “Crushing me here.”  
  
“Sorry. Merry Christmas.” Steve giggles -actually giggles- when he releases his hold on you.  
“Yes. Right. Merry Christmas.” You turn around, find your bearings, and there, at the center of the group and quite jovial looking, stands “Poe? What...? How...? When...?” The questions stop when your gaze drops to Poe’s sweater. There’s an awkward second where your brain plays catch-up with your eyes. And when it does...  
  
Really, how can you not laugh with Poe standing there, smiling ear to ear, wearing an elf hat and dressed in an ugly Christmas sweater depicting a reindeer wearing sunglasses?  
  
“Something wrong with my outfit, Miss?” He asks quite earnestly and you laugh even louder, because damn his confident, roguish, pompous charm.  
“Sorry.... sorry.... I’m sorry.” It takes you another minute and actually looking away before you can center yourself. God damn it! That little sh...  
  
“I take it you know Major Dameron.” Steve speaking up is a good thing. It helps ground you. Calm you.  
“Yes. We’ve met.” You shake Poe’s hand as stony-faced as you can manage, notice he’s clean-shaven today, and he gives you a suave wink. “Also, I had no idea that Mister Stark would be here.” You redirect focus, offering a stern brow to Steve, before shaking Stark’s hand.  
  
“No one knew.” The billionaire points out. “A surprise stop. It was on my way to... where are we off to this time, Happy?”  
“Monaco.”  
“Really? Well, then you overshot. Monaco is west of here.” You point in the general direction, then backtrack. Wow! Where did that come from?  
Clearly, Stark isn’t bothered, the way he falls into laughter with the rest of the group.  
  
Your attention then shifts to tall, built, and brunette. And handsome. Very very handsome with big gray eyes, a perfectly square jaw, and a perfectly straight nose. “I don’t think we’ve met.” You reach out and are met halfway.  
  
It’s a little surprising how gentle the handshake is, considering that this man stands as tall and broad as Steve. In fact, he looks a little bulkier than Steve. “James Buchanan Barnes.” He introduces himself, voice just as gentle. “Or Bucky.” Bucky smiles a striking smile and you notice his eyes flit to Steve for a second.  
  
It hits like lightning; that ‘penny in the air dropping to the ground’ moment, but you bite your tongue, side-eye Poe who side-eyes you. Neither of you says anything, but you know that he knows that you know.  
  
A little more small talk, a few more laughs, the group breaks when Stark receives a text from his wife. Poe’s hand slides into yours, anchors you before you can walk with Steve. “Let him have fun. Let yourself have fun.” Poe whispers into your ear, steps back to gaze at you.  
“It wasn’t about work.”  
“Yes, it was.”  
  
Intense brown eyes keep you fixed in place, and so is the fact that Poe’s right hand falls to your lower back, right before he pulls you into his body to slow dance. It’s a good thing Poe leads with a tight hold on you. Your bones feel like jelly, muscles only holding you upright with a continuous tingling buzz.  
  
“How’d you do it?” You whisper. “How’d you get past the list without my help?”  
“A smile.”  
“A smile? That’s it? Just a smile?” It’s not hard to believe. But REALLY?  
“Okay. It was a smile and a hundred Euros.” Poe lifts a cocky brow and you laugh, forehead falling onto Poe’s chest.  
  
Poe keeps leading in slow circles, kisses into your hair. “Actually...” he starts, waits for you to look up. “I have an in with the owner.” Poe points with his chin over your shoulder.  
A quick glance in the same direction, you see Steve standing by a table, laughing and talking with “James? I mean, Bucky owns this bar?”  
  
Poe stops dancing, guides your face by the chin to look at him, big brown eyes studying your face intensely.  
“You’re Trouble.” You whisper.  
Poe smiles, kisses you softly. “But so worth it.”  
  
Truer words. “Is anyone immune to your charm?” You snicker and Poe takes a long breath, then leads again in slow circles.  
“Well.” He thinks for a moment. “General Solo seems immune. Most of my friends, too. Oh... and my mother, well at least until...” Poe swallows hard, puts on a fake smile. The kind that leaves the eyes blank.  
  
That doesn’t go past. You’d noticed the absence of Poe’s mother in the picture with his father. They’d stood in front of a jet, both men smiling and looking proud, Poe in his full dress uniform. It likely was the day, Poe had earned his wings. Graduations are always an important day in any parents’ book.  
  
“What happened to her?” You ask softly. Carefully.  
Poe’s face falls completely. “She... died. When I was young. Suddenly. In an accident.” He whispers. “I miss her. Especially when I meet people I know she would’ve... adored.” Poe chooses the last word carefully, studies your reaction, and deep down you know he’s wondering if he’s overstepped. If he’s moving a little too fast.  
You palm Poe’s face and give him a reassuring smile but say nothing; just let the moment linger in quiet contemplation.  
  
Poe kisses you, again, grumbles when a chime interrupts. He picks his cell from his jeans, shakes his head in amusement when he reads the message. “Karé wants to know when we’re stopping by.”  
So Karé knew about Poe’s plan! “I don’t know. I can’t just leave. I mean, usually I walk with Steve, write down reminders when people request meetings or need to call...”  
  
Poe leans in, kisses the shell of your ear. “Wanna bet?” He whispers, takes your hand and pulls you towards Steve and Bucky. Confident as usual, Poe cuts in without waiting. “Hey Bucky. I wish I could stay longer but I promised Karé we’d stop by.”  
“What? Awe man. Too bad.” Bucky hugs Poe goodbye. “Tell the Wexley’s hi from me.” He adds before his attention shifts to you.  
  
“And you going with? Heads up. The Wexley’s cook up a storm for Christmas. You’ll be rolling instead of walking with how much they feed you. I bet there’s even more food this year, with the bun in the oven and all.” Bucky laughs and so do you.  
  
A glance to Steve, it’s as though you’re asking for indirect permission. And you’re actually ready to ask when Poe beats you to the chase. “It was nice to meet you, Steve. Really wish we could stay, but it’s Christmas Eve and after Karé, we have to stop by at the General’s house. And you know how it goes. What the boss says, goes.” Talk about authoritative! Talk about decisive! There’s no room for misinterpretation that Poe means what he says.  
  
A not so subtle subliminal message, Steve gets the point, shakes Poe’s hand tightly and formally. “Hopefully, the General won’t keep you too late. It is Christmas Eve. Should be spent with loved ones.” Your boss winks at you, mouths “have fun” your way, and you reply with a mouthed “you too”.  
  
Buckled firmly into the passenger seat with the evening on replay, you can’t seem to stop staring at Poe when he drives northeast to Mouzouras. You wonder how much more there is to him. How long it would take to really get to know him.  
  
“What’s on your mind, beautiful?” Poe’s cheeks crease deeply.  
Poe Dameron is a good man, you decide, even if you haven’t seen all his facets yet. Deep down, you feel he’s a good man. Someone you’d invest a whole life in to get to know. You smile, wrap your hand over his on the gearshift. “You are.”  
Poe doesn’t say anything. Only seems to smile brighter when he pulls your hand to his lips for a kiss.  
  
The calm ends once you arrive at the Wexley house. Like last time, Chewie, the golden retriever, tackles Poe to the floor, elf hat flying through the air in the process. And like last time, it’s Karé to the rescue. “Look at you. Love the outfit.” She winks at you, helps Poe up. “You don’t have to wait in the hallway, Y/N. You’re a friend, just make yourself at home.”  
  
You follow the sound of lively conversation, are greeted with strong hugs and cheery “heys” once you reach the kitchen. Taking up space around kitchen island and dining room table are half of Rapier squadron’s officers and a few of the enlisted ground crew, everyone already working on their own food-laden plates.  
  
“Make yourself a plate.” Snap points to a stack of tableware, so you do as told.  
Bucky hadn’t been joking when he’d said that the Wexleys cook up a storm. You don’t know where to start. Greek beef stew or broccoli cheddar soup. Green bean casserole or sweet carrots. Mashed potatoes or home fried ones. Stuffing or a dinner roll. Turkey or ham. And is that a sweet potato casserole next to a dish of baklava.  
  
“Here. Start with Yiaprakia.” Karé is next to you, starts loading up your plate with stuffed cabbage and turkey. “We also have mulled wine and spiked eggnog. Or if you want something very sweet, try the homemade hot chocolate.”  
“Sweetheart. You’re doing it again.” Snap cuts in. “How about you make your own plate and eat while everything’s still warm?”  
Karé squints at her husband, points a warning finger at him. “I know you’re just saying that so I get out of the way.”  
  
“No. I’m saying that because you’ve been cooking since eight in the morning and I haven’t seen you eat or take a break. Indulge me?”  
Karé caves with a kiss to the cheek, steals a whole pint of ice cream from the freezer on the way out to the living room.  
“It’s the hormones.” Snap chuckles. “I swear, she’s never been like this before.”  
  
“And think, this is only the beginning.” Poe laughs. He kisses your cheek, makes himself a plate before he rejoins you by the kitchen island. “But I guess it’s a good thing. I know how worried she was about being a great mom.”  
Snap nods, nurses a beer. “Nothing like babysitting a bunch of officers to prepare for motherhood. Having a baby will be easy compared to you lot.”  
“Hey!”  
  
You side-eye Poe, try your hardest not to egg on, but “He’s not wrong,” you agree and Poe’s mouth falls open.  
“Once again. Can’t believe how fast my friends have corrupted you. No turkey for you.” He steals from your plate and you snicker.  
A quiet moment, you lean on Poe’s shoulder and he kisses into your hair. Trouble, but he truly is so worth it.  
  
“So how’d you manage to escape?” Snap asks with a knowing smirk and you sheepishly go back to eating your food.  
“I told her boss we’d have to stop by the General’s house.” Poe supplies and Snap laughs.  
“Good one.”  
“So we’re not actually going to stop by the General’s house?” You ask, surprised, and Snap laughs again.  
“Not unless you want your head ripped off. The General values his time off, especially during the holidays.”  
  
This time, you laugh. “Take it someone found out the hard way?”  
Snap points to Poe and Poe shakes his head. “Don’t ask.”  
“Okay, now I have to know.” You poke Poe’s side and he drops his head onto the kitchen island in defeat.  
“Might as well tell her.” He extends a hand dramatically but Snap shakes his head.  
“I feel like I should save this one for another time. It’ll keep you humble.” Snap’s as sassy as Poe and you can see why they’re such close friends.  
  
A couple of hours of chatting and laughing, hot chocolate and desserts, and maybe a glass of mulled wine later, you help Karé divide leftovers into takeout containers. Poe gets two. “One of those is for your woman.” Karé explains sternly, as if he’d start noshing away right now.  
  
“Oh... I... I don’t have a fridge at the hotel room.”  
“Poe has a fridge. Aren’t you staying tonight? You guys can eat this for breakfast tomorrow morning.” Karé says it with such nonchalance that it catches even Poe “swagger-is-my-middle-name” Dameron off guard.  
  
Red at the ears, he sweeps an abashed hand over the back of his neck, whispers “sorry” your way. But to his surprise you don’t correct Karé, just nod when she hands you a second bag with leftover desserts.  
  
The Wexleys walk their friends outside, including you. Hugs and kisses and a few Merry Christmases, then you’re on your way. Poe drives slowly through housing, picks up speed once he reaches the main road. At the fork to gate and barracks, he stops, checks his mirrors before he sets his car into park.  
  
“I won’t lie. It’d be wonderful if you stayed.” He whispers, his focus on the steering wheel for a beat before he looks to you. “But like I said before...”  
“No expectations.” You whisper and Poe nods.  
“No expectations.”  
  
You caress Poe’s face, trace his lips. “It is late.”  
“Very.” He agrees.  
“And... tomorrow’s Christmas.”  
“It is.” Poe leans closer and you meet him halfway. A soft kiss, forehead against forehead, Poe reminds you faintly. “No expectations.”  
  
Poe is roguish charm and confident swagger, and with some people, such a combination can come across as pompous jerk. But Poe is more than that. He’s honest vulnerability when he feels safe. He’s integrity and loyalty, decisiveness and patience.  
  
And now, in his quarters, he’s respectful distance while he watches you reinspect his living room. Poe’s cleaned his place since last time. Stray items have been collected. The bookshelf looks sorted. Trinkets have been rearranged. Even his desk has been cleared. In place of charts and blueprints, the small Christmas tree now stands atop. Beneath it, a flat rate box takes the place of presents.  
  
Soft rustling makes you turn. Poe is reorganizing things in the fridge, stows leftovers when he’s made some space. He tosses an old takeout box, smiles when he catches you observing. “Bachelor life. Lots of leftovers.” He chuckles and so do you.  
  
A slow once-over, you swear you can hear your own heartbeat in the silence of the moment. See time crawling to a halt when Poe makes his way to you. Feel the static crackling of electricity reach new heights when he takes your hand.  
  
Poe carefully steps into your space, rubs his thumb in slow circles over the back of your hand. “You know those presents that are wrapped in the most exquisite paper and you just know that the gift inside is the one thing you’ve been waiting for all year? So you’re careful, peel away the tape as slowly as possible because ripping the paper could break the thing inside.  
  
And once the tape is gone, you slowly unfold the paper crease by crease, because you’re afraid if you hurry now, the present won’t turn out to be the thing you wanted, but then it is. And you hope that that moment, when you realize you got what you’ve always wanted, lasts forever.”  
  
Poe’s still tracing circles over the back of your hand when he leans in, his breath fanning the shell of your ear when he asks. “Can I unwrap you?” A soft laugh at his own question, Poe stops tracing circles, takes a step back, waits.  
  
In a flash, it’s all hands and tangled tongues. A confident yes from you is all it takes and Poe doesn’t waste any time. In dizzying circles and with breathy moans, mouth to mouth, he pulls, nudges, leads you to his bedroom, tears off his sweater once there.  
  
The navy blue shirt beneath is covered in fuzz and so is Poe’s hair. “Was that a brand new sweater? You ought to have washed it before wearing it.” You sass and Poe recaptures you with a low growl, nibbles the tender spot behind your ear.  
“The things I do for you.” He kisses you, makes you laugh when he trips forward and in a timber-like fall takes you with him onto his bed.  
  
Poe pants, sweeps a hand over your cheek, realizes he should slow down. Thumbing your lips, he leans down for a slow kiss, takes his time when -with the tip of his tongue- he traces over every arch and curve of your mouth, from Cupid’s bow to vermillion borders back to Cupid’s bow, but it doesn’t work. Poe’s mind is racing.  
  
His forehead drops to your shoulder, his whole body tense with fading restraint. “I need you.” He confesses under heavy breath and you know he really means “I need to be inside you. Now!” And truth be told, you need him like that, too.  
  
Fuck slow and tender. Fuck picture-perfect first nights together. Your hands fumble for Poe’s jeans, find his belt, unbuckle it, pop the buttons of his fly, reach in. “Me, too.” You breathe, one of your hands already working precum down his thick length.  
  
A moan catches at the back of Poe’s throat, followed by another low growl. Gentle and slow is definitely out the door when he kneels to get his hands under your dress, desperate in search for your panties. The only thing that makes him stop is the feeling of skin where he thought tights would be.  
  
Fists curled around the hem, Poe hikes up your dress, eyes hungry when he sees you’re wearing a garter belt with cable knit thigh-highs attached. “God fuck! That’s ... cute and... fucking hot!” Poe breathes. He teases the elastic suspender-straps, snaps them roughly against your skin, just on the edge of pleasure and pain. “Fucking hot.” He growls when he hears you moan.  
  
It’s when you tell him to do it again, to “go rough and hard” that he loses that last drop of restraint. He’s fast to tear away the clips, faster when his fingers dig under the seam of your panties, fastest when he pulls them roughly over your legs down to your boots.  
  
Nimble fingers, he explores if you’re as eager as him. If you’re ready for him, ‘cause Jesus fucking Christ does he need you. And you are ready. Really, really are. Nonetheless, a whimpered “Poe” and he stops.  
“Condom.” You whisper and Poe nods.  
He scrambles to his bedside table, blindly digs through the drawer. A triumphant “aha” and you both laugh, again.  
  
Poe hurries, drops his dark-washed 501s and briefs, tugs you to the edge of the bed where he stands and almost tears your panties when he pulls them over your boots at last. “You sure?” He asks. He needs to hear it again. Even in the heat of the moment.  
Legs wrapping around Poe’s waist, you pull him towards yourself, feel him hard and wanting against slick folds. “Yes.”  
  
Poe wishes he could capture the sound you make once he sinks into you. Make the sight of you arching and grinding into him a Renaissance painting. This has to be heaven, what he sees and hears. “Oh... fuck.” It’s definitely heaven when he feels you squeeze him as if your life depends on it.  
  
“Move!” You beg, so Poe does as he’s told.  
Deep fast pace, he pulls on the cowled collar of your dress, needs to get to your neck, bites and licks and sucks on sensitive skin once he does and you wonder what else his mouth can do.  
“What happened to not wanting to rip the paper.” You wheeze and Poe laughs.  
“Technically, I didn’t. You’re still very wrapped up. But I promise, I’ll take care of that later.” He laughs again and so do you.  
  
Raspy moans and sheen with sweat, Poe’s forehead drops back onto your shoulder. He keeps his weight on one hand, the other disappears skillfully between your bodies. A calloused finger finds your clit, stroking that bundle of nerves over and over and over until you chant to god, until you squeeze Poe’s cock so hard, he’s close to losing it himself.  
  
“Close. So close. Poe. Just... a little harder!” You demand, your fingernails digging into the back of Poe’s neck, and he obeys with both, his fingers and his cock. “Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Poe, fuck!” One last thrust, hard and very very deep, and Poe falls over the edge with you, moaning, panting, melting... pliant... spent... warm... relaxed...  
  
Soft hands, you play with Poe’s short hair, notice the beginnings of curls. You’re sure he’ll need a haircut soon. Keep up with military standards. You wonder if he’d keep his hair short once he retires. Wonder if he would keep whatever routines he has now. Wonder if his life has space for more. Wonder...  
“I’ll be right back.” Poe whispers, kisses you gently before carefully separating your bodies and you snicker when he stumbles over his pants on his out.  
  
True to his word, Poe hurries back. Or so it feels when the mattress dips by your feet. “Dozed off there for a second.” Poe chuckles. He unlaces your boots, slides them off, then helps you to a wobbly stand. “Time to unwrap you.” He kisses behind your ear, slowly pulls the dress over your head.  
  
The drowsiness lifts and you notice that Poe’s taken off his shirt. It’s a nice view, too. Trained but on the softer side, he exudes a welcoming type of warmth. One that makes you reach out to see if he’s real.  
  
He is.  
  
And so is the Air Force wing tattoo above his heart.  
  
Poe watches as you trace black ink, follows your fingers down his abs, right above his navel to his happy trail, right above...  
“Are you wearing...” You can’t help it. You really can’t. You nearly fall over in laughter. That cheeky little fucker!  
  
Poe laughs with you, helps you sit down before you can fall. “Figured it’s only fair. Since it’s Christmas and all.” He does a three-sixty, shakes his ass halfway through to show off a blue and white barely-there speedo. “What do you think? Does my ass look nice in these or what?” He spins again and you agree, wheezing, still lost in laughter.  
  
“You’re not actually wearing those to bed, are you?” You wipe away a tear and Poe shakes his head, smirks.  
“I always sleep in the nude.”  
You don’t have to think about some witty comeback, but it’s fun to pretend. “I can live with that.”  
“I bet you can. Now, time to unwrap the rest.”  
  
Poe chews on his bottom lip, drags a hungry gaze down your body, and you get this feeling the night’s not over. And it's not.  
  
This time, Poe takes his time, shows you exactly what he can do with his mouth and tongue and hands. He starts at the neck, chains kisses to all the spots that make you sigh, sweeps his tongue to the edges of your bra. You’re not even sure how he takes it off. One second your bra is there, the next it’s gone, Poe nipping and kissing from soft curve to soft curve.  
  
More sweet moans, he slides down your body, kisses your stomach, unhooks the garter belt at the same time.  
Nothing but thigh-highs left, Poe slowly rolls first the left, then the right off your legs, kisses every inch of skin from ankles to knees over thighs to tender skin between.  
  
Poe spreads you with ease, his arms curling around your thighs for what’s ahead. Kitten licks, he teases your clit, makes you squirm for more. A whimpered Poe, he gives you a cocky wink from down south, teases you again with thin licks and wispy kisses.  
  
“Poe!”  
Poe loves how deliciously frustrated you sound. Loves the rising tension and the way you circle your hips in hopes for some, ANY friction. “I got you, beautiful.” He sasses and you want to crash a pillow over his head.  
  
But Poe means what he says. Firm grip on you, he goes ALL in. Tongue deep, wet, and strong, and you moan obscenely loud. Who knew the human tongue was capable of such acts? That lips could be that talented?  
  
“Oh god...” It’s more like a whimpered cry. Poe has you wound so tight, you’re ready to tear apart any moment.  
And Poe knows, adds two fingers into your tight heat, and you reach for Poe’s short hair, scratch and pull, hang on for dear life as your body arches up, up, up, toes curling into the mattress because god fuck, sun, moon, stars... “POE!”  
  
Your hands are still in Poe’s hair when you feel him shift between your legs. Soft and slow, he kisses his way up, teases your nose when he sees your heavy-lidded gaze.  
“You okay?” He studies your face and you sigh.  
“Very.”  
  
Poe lies down next to you, cuddles close, traces lines up and down your body. No words, just comfortable silence and warmth, scents of cinnamon and spice, sweat and tangy sweetness.  
  
You hate to ruin the moment. Really try to stay curled up. But damn it, nature calls. “I... uhm... gotta go potty.” You muffle abashed into Poe’s side and he chuckles.  
“Yes. Go. Read that ladies should use the restroom after... “ Poe waggles his brows and you hit him with a pillow.  
“You’re not all that, you know that?”  
Unfazed and laughing, Poe captures you at the wrists, nips your neck when he pulls you close. “Yes, I am.” He waggles his brows again, bites his bottom lip.  
  
Damn him! Because... Damn it! He is. He really really is. “Don’t let it go to your head.” You quirk a brow but struggle to keep a serious face. You grab the top-sheet, try to wrap it toga-style around yourself but Poe doesn’t let you.  
“Don’t hide.” His voice is low and gravelly when he drags a very deliberate gaze down your body, right before he licks his lips.  
Damn him! He IS all that and then some.  
  
It’s amazing though, the things a single look can do. Right now, it’s a confidence boost. Hand on hip, you sway slowly towards the door in nothing but your birthday suit, laugh when you hear Poe growl.  
“You keep that up, it’ll be an even longer night.” He yells once you’re out of sight and you laugh, again.  
  
You take your time once business is done. Wash hands and face, use Poe’s lotion on raw skin. A glance in the mirror, you chuckle. For one because your makeup is a smudged mess. The other reason is the fact that Poe’s left his marks. You’re sure you’ve left yours on him, the way you’d kept scratching over his neck.  
  
Your gaze shifts to Poe’s tags. They hang -like before- on a hook next to the mirror. Cool metal against fingertips, you wonder what they’d feel like against your chest. Wonder if Poe is actually the type to give his love a spare set. It’s tempting. You could just try them on, but like the bedroom, this needs extra permission.  
  
A soft thud gets your attention. Some rustling and quick feet, a lowly cussed “fuck”, you wonder what Poe is up to now.  
He’s cozy under his comforter when you return, gives you an extra-wide smile and waggling brows.  
  
“What’s up?” You squint, approach carefully.  
“Why don’t you crawl under here and I’ll show you what’s up.”  
You hope the officer one room over doesn’t hear the noise you make. A snorted laugh and wheezed “smart-ass”, Poe laughs with you just as loudly.  
  
Poe scoots to the edge of the bed, hugs you into the comforter and close to himself, kisses your bare skin. “I do have something to show you.” He pulls you onto the bed, takes you with him when he reaches with his free arm over the opposite edge.  
  
You’re snug against his body when his arm comes back into view, a small gold box with pretty lace ribbons in his hand. Poe noses the side of your head, kisses you softly after. “For you.” He whispers, notes your hesitation when you sit up. “I promise, it’s not jewelry. Unless that’s what you want. I mean, I’ll get you all the jewelry you can wear, you know, but that’s not what this is. It’s just something small...”  
  
You sweep a hand over Poe’s cheek, kiss the crease between his brows. “It’s not that. It’s just... I didn’t get you anything.”  
Poe shakes his head, kisses over the curve of your shoulder. “I disagree.” He smiles, nuzzles the tender spot behind your ear. “Open it.”  
  
You’re slow when you pull away the ribbons, slower when you lift the lid of the golden box, and slowest when you reach in. “Poe, it’s... beautiful.” Gentle fingers, you trace over a small crystal ship ornament, little gold specks on hull, mast, and sail making it look like it’s decorated with tiny lights.  
  
“It’s a tradition here. To decorate the boats. It’s to celebrate the safe return of sailors who’ve been away for a long time. You have to point it to the center of the house, you know, the heart. It signifies your love’s journey home.” Poe explains and you nod, don't miss that Poe points the bow first at you, then himself.  
“It’s perfect.” You smile, safely return the ship to the box. “Thank you.”  
  
It’s quiet after that. Warm body against warm body, skin on skin, soothing even breaths, calm beating hearts. You could stay like this forever. Snuggled into Poe’s side, drawing shapes on his chest while he draws shapes on your arm. “Poe?”  
“Yes, beautiful?”  
“Take me exploring.”  
“I can do that. What’d you like to see?”  
You bite your lip, gaze up Poe’s chest. “The world?”  
Poe’s answer is instantaneous. “I can do that.”  
  
You cuddle back into Poe’s side and he holds you just a little bit closer. Tighter.  
“Poe?”  
A soft chuckle. “Yes, beautiful?”  
“Merry Christmas.”  
“Merry Christmas, αγάπη μου (agápi mou).”


	5. Part V: Wrap My Heart In Love (Epilogue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's travel into the future. Thirty years, to be precise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter has a little bit of spice.
> 
> Italics indicate flashback and start and end of one longer one. You'll see.

  
_From Steve: What would you say to half days until New Years? Full pay._ _  
_ _To Steve: I’d ask “who are you and what have you done with my boss?”_ _  
_ _From Steve: Ha ha! Very funny. I’m serious._ _  
_ _To Steve: So the evening with Bucky went very well then. ;-)_ _  
_ _From Steve: Y/N!!!_ _  
_ _To Steve: Tell me I’m wrong._ _  
_ _From Steve:..._ _  
_ _From Steve: You are not._  
  
You snicker, stretch your toes, and snicker again.  
Deep inhale, long exhale, warm breath fans your shoulder. “What’s so funny, my love?” Poe’s voice is heavy with sleep. He kisses between your shoulder blades, noses the back of your neck.  
  
Mornings like this is what you live for. No rush to get up, cozy and warm, soft skin on soft skin with hints of cinnamon and spice in the air. Careful not to release cocooned heat, you roll over in Poe’s hold, kiss him sweetly. “Hi.”  
“Hi.”  
  
Poe’s sleep rumpled face is the most adorable thing. Pillow lines and stubble and half-lidded gaze with a slanted smile, you can’t help to giggle at the sight.  
Poe teases your nose with his, nibbles it after. “Good dreams?”  
“Good memories.” You whisper, want to stay in this moment forever, where it’s just you, Poe, and glowing warmth, the world outside muted and non-existent; where hazy bliss keeps eyes heavy and bodies relaxed.  
  
Poe pulls you closer, traces lines down the center of your back, kisses over your face, from brows to nose to lips. “Tell me.” He holds a steady gaze, kisses each of your cheeks. “Please.”  
  
Poe doesn’t really have to plead to get answers. Not when it comes to you. An easy smile, a soft gaze, you volunteer information easily to him. Even now, after almost thirty years together. And he knows. “Just thinking about when we met.”  
  
Poe’s wide awake now, waggles his brows, cheeks creasing deep in naughty mischief when he props his head on his palm. “Yeah? Anything in particular?”  
You know that he means that first night together. THAT night that had extended into three full days of nothing but heated make-out sessions between half-naked cooking tutorials, and maybe a couple of long hours of naked passion and lust.  
  
Without change of clothing, you’d been left with just the sweater dress while at Poe’s quarters. And he had seemed incapable to resist undressing you every single time you’d put it back on. It had been so easy to forget that time exists while there. So easy to get lost in passion and lust and love and big brown eyes and soft-as-silk lips...  
  
You smirk. You still have that dress. And even though it sits a little snugger now, the color faded, a few snags making it look a bit frayed, Poe still goes wild whenever you wear it, especially whenever you’re bold enough to wear nothing but. Just like those three days after that first night.  
  
You straddle Poe’s waist, kiss the expanded tattoo on his chest, following the fine lines of dates and places important to him, to you. “Actually,” you start and Poe let’s out an over-dramatic groan.  
It doesn’t stop him from squeezing your ass. “Actually? Really? Was there something better I don’t know about?”  
You laugh, pinch his nipple, and he hisses in response. “I didn’t say that. Just thinking how without Steve meeting Bucky, we wouldn’t have had as much time.”  
  
Poe is definitely very awake now. He nibbles his way up your neck, bites the lobe of your ear. “Remind me to send them another thank you card for our thirtieth.” Poe slips a hand between your bodies, plays a little, thanks god you sleep without clothing of any kind.  
“Poe...” Your head falls back, hips circling automatically into Poe’s touch.  
“I got you, beautiful.”  
  
And he does. A swift move, Poe helps you sheath his cock before he relaxes back; helps ease you into morning bliss with a thumb on your clit while he enjoys the view. Circling hips and swaying curves, Poe loves when you lose yourself riding his cock. Loves it when you let it all fall away and become loud and fierce with nails scratching down his abs.  
  
It doesn’t happen every morning. It doesn’t even happen every week. Mornings like this. But when they do, Poe makes sure that you know that he worships you as much as he did those first three days, if not more, proving that some things get much MUCH better with time.  
  
A lewd moan, an “almost there”, Poe makes sure you reach your high before him, grabs you tight once he chases his own release. “God fuck. So perfect.” His breath is ragged. “Always so tight and hot and perfect.” He bites your shoulder, staggers a breath with a growl once there.  
  
Forehead in the curve of your neck, Poe holds you a while longer. He needs this as much today as way back when. To feel you dripping and skin on skin and lost in the moment; to hear your beating heart, hear your lungs fill with and expel air. “I love you.” Poe whispers and you play with his curls.  
  
Poe’s more salt than pepper now, curls thick and almost long enough to fall over his eyes. He’s more defined, some lines permanently deeper. His stubble a blend of gray and white and black. Even his brows have taken on a gray-white hue. You sweep a finger across his features, chuckle at his blissed-out gaze.  
  
“Now what?”  
You shake your head, kiss Poe’s nose. “Love you, too, my silver fox.” You snicker, again, and Poe rolls you on your back, pins you in place with his weight.  
“I’ll show you silver fox.” He growls, nibbles over your skin, makes you wheeze in laughter when he blows a few raspberries all over your soft stomach.  
  
“Poe! Stop! Please..... stooooop!”  
There are very few things that Poe loves more than being one with you. Making you laugh until you can’t breathe is definitely up there. He blows one last raspberry, let’s you catch your breath before he hugs you tight to his body. “Admit it. You love all the silver.” He smirks before a kiss between your brows.  
  
He’s not wrong. You do. You love the silver. And the untamed curls. And the extra lines. And the couple of extra pounds around his waist. You love him wholeheartedly and then some. “I do.” You push up on one arm, reach out for a kiss...  
  
The doorbell is loudest in the mornings. Poe groans, hugs you back to himself. “Maybe if we’re really really quiet, she’ll leave.” He whispers and you snicker.  
“Wouldn’t count on it.”  
  
The doorbell sounds off again. And one more time. Then there’s rustling, a thud, and fast approaching clicks, followed by a low snuffling behind a closed bedroom door.  
“Anyone home?” The stairs creak and the snuffling by the door stops, trading for excited barks.  
  
Poe pulls the comforter over your heads, puts a finger to his lips. “Be very very quiet.”  
“Mom? Dad? I know you’re in there. Beeps can smell you.”  
Trying your hardest not to laugh, Poe actually has to cover your mouth with his hand so you don’t burst.  
  
“You’d make a horrible spy.” He growls when your laugh rips through the silence anyways. Not like you’d be able to hide forever.  
“I’m coming in there. Whether you’re decent or not.”  
Before either of you can say anything, the door swings open and you’re tackled by a flash of white and brown fur.  
  
It’s a good thing you’re holding the comforter snug between arms and bodies, or else it would’ve been a very VERY revealing moment once your daughter walks in. “Mom. You said to be here early. For once I am, and you’re in here snogging with dad.” She rolls her eyes, flops down in the middle of the bed, almost sending Beeps flying across and you laugh, again.  
“I didn’t think you’d actually be on time, Shar.” You tease and Shara squints in disapproval.  
  
She’s almost all Poe, with her thick black curls and deep brown eyes and her sometimes melodramatic gestures. Shara rolls to her side, sighs, points a very strict finger at you. “You said tío Snap is visiting. That means good food.”  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”  
“Exactly what you think it means.” Yup. Shara is almost all Poe, including sass, drama, and near brutal honesty. “Anyways. Stop making out. It’s gross.”  
  
“Really? If it’s gross, then how do you explain...” Poe points to Shara’s protruding tummy, her maternity sweater looking snugger than last time she’d visited.  
“That’s different.”  
“How?”  
“You’re my parents. Besides. That’s not how babies are made.”  
“Enlighten me. How are babies made?”  
  
When Poe and Shara get into one of their sassy back-and-forths, it’s always best to intervene before things get out of hand. Today’s no exception. “Where’s your snogging partner?” You grin and Shara makes a scrunched up face.  
  
“He’s unloading the car. Told me I’m not allowed to help.”  
“Good!” Poe’s response is firm. “Don’t roll your eyes at me! You’re getting close. You don’t want to risk anything.”  
Shara looks to you, perks a brow. “Was dad like this with you?”  
“Honestly? He was worse.” You laugh, give Poe a teasing wink when you see his mouth ajar.  
  
Shara slowly crawls off the bed, stretches her back, snaps a finger for Beeps to heel. “I can believe that.” She smirks. “Now stop snogging and get dressed. Seriously, it’s like you’re couple of teenagers. You should be acting like you gonna be grandparents soon.”  
  
“We can do both, thank you very much.” Poe yells after his daughter and Shara cackles on her way downstairs. “She gets that from you.” Poe accuses with a pointed finger and you shake your head.  
“Nope. That’s all you.” You laugh, pull the comforter with you on the way to the bathroom and Poe follows close behind.  
  
It takes a while before you two make it downstairs, giggling indeed like teenagers in love once you see Shara.  
“Stop it.” She warns without looking up, keeps peeling the mountain of potatoes by the sink, drops a carrot for Beeps from the pile next in line.  
“We didn’t do anything.” Poe pulls orange juice from the fridge, preps two glasses.  
“Right. Just like me and Leon didn’t do anything eight months ago.”  
  
An awkward silence, Leon’s eyes widen in horror. “Babe! Seriously?” There’s an abashed modesty to Shara’s husband that’s quite endearing. You’re sure Leon can handle Shara being blunt and forward. But Shara and Poe? And in one room? There’s only so much a shy person can handle in a single day. And your guests aren’t even here, yet.  
  
You take your glass of orange juice, link arms with Leon. “Come, help an old woman finish decorating the living room, won’t you? Gives those two a chance to talk about us behind our backs.” You tease and Leon’s eyes are close to popping out of his head.  
  
The living room doesn’t need much. Just an extra table for snacks and drinks, a few extra garlands around the windows, some rearranging of furniture to open the room for maximum seating. Leon follows instructions quietly, doesn’t question when you ask him to move the recliner for the third -no!- fourth time in less than fifteen minutes.  
  
“I think it looks good here.” He speaks up at last and you quirk an icy brow, face as hard as stone.  
“You sure? I thought it looked better there.” You point across the room and Leon hitches a breath.  
“Oh... O...Okay... right there?”  
You can’t help the laugh at the desperate squeak in your son-in-law’s voice. That poor boy might just lose his mind with this family. “Leon... I’m teasing. You’re right. It looks good where it is.”  
“Thank god.”  
  
It’s funny. When it comes to Air Force pilots, all you’ve ever known is roguish mischief and sizable egos with a generous dash of authority. Something that had rubbed off on your daughter from an early age. You weren’t even surprised when Shara had said that she’d started dating a pilot while studying abroad. And then you’d met Leon...  
  
Shy and quiet, he’d been a stuttering mess, and you can’t blame him. It’s one thing to meet the parents of the person one loves. It’s a whole different universe to meet the parents, the grandfather, the honorary aunts and uncles and respective honorary cousins all in one go; most, if not all, with ties to the Air Force themselves.  
  
It makes you snicker to this day. You doubt that Shara had told Leon about everyone being there, but she wears her heart on her sleeve and, like Poe, doesn’t trudge around the bush when it comes to her family. If Leon hadn’t come out at least trying to get along, Shara would’ve never said yes.  
  
You observe Leon. He’s quiet again, adjusting a few garlands to make them even. “Are you excited?”  
Leon knows you mean the baby. He nods, smiles brightly. “Very. And nervous. But mostly excited.”  
“And Shara? Be honest.”  
  
Leon swallows a breath, fiddles with a wreath centered above the piano. “Excited. Nervous. A little scared even though you’d never know, looking at her.”  
You lay a gentle hand on Leon’s shoulder, squeeze softly. “We’re always here when you need help, okay?”  
Another bright smile, Leon nods. “Yes, ma’am.”  
  
This time, Leon laughs wholeheartedly. If there’s one thing you hate it’s being called ma’am. “Kitchen duty! Now!” You point to the hallway and Leon slinks away, snicker in tow.  
“Yes, ma’...”  
“Don’t do it!”  
  
You give yourself a moment, take in the quiet before the storm. The living room is your favorite room this time of the year. It’s always homey in here, with well worn wing-chairs and an enormous couch, the piano and two guitars in one corner and the TV in another.  
  
But this time of year, homey becomes more. It turns into late evenings watching TV and cuddled under thick blankets. Fills with scents of sugar and orange and spice. Transforms into heated board-game nights and singing carols with the lyrics mixed up. Packed cozy, this room becomes the heart of the house, where memories are made, then kept on walls and a still potted pine.  
  
You smile, make your way to the Christmas tree. It’s cheery-looking, covered wholly with shiny things from around the world and cute little finds from family and friends. Models of famous landmarks, silver bells, wood carved winter scenes, Poe's Air Force business card embedded in clear-casted resin... The tree is a disastrous mismatched beauty -nothing like those in fancy magazines- and you love every single branch, especially the ones home to handcrafted items by Shara and Poe.  
  
A little paper star covered in plastic rainbow sprinkles had been Shara’s first. She’d been so proud when you’d put it on the tree that she’d gone and made five more, each bigger than the last. They’re up again this year -the stars- between popsicle stick frames and pinecone animals, ironed Perler shapes and intricate origami diamonds. Where has the time gone? One day, Shara had barely been able to hold a crayon, and seemingly the next, she’s an adult with a growing family of her own.  
  
Attention shifts to the crystal ship, its bowsprit pointing to the couch. Thirty years later, it’s just as shiny now as it was when this whole tradition had started. Every year, Poe’s gifted you an ornament, some he’d found in thrift stores abroad, others at market places during the season. A few, he’s made himself.  
  
Painted in pastels of yellow and pink, a pair of tiny footprints in round clay discs hang centered on the tree. Fine lines spell out Shara under the left little foot, and October 28, 2023, under the right. Funny how people remember the joyous occasions with pictures and trinkets and repeated stories, leaving the ugly shrouded in fog...  
  
 _“_ _I don’t understand why you’re upset with me. You knew when we got married that I might have to get deployed! I’ve asked you again and again if you know what that means?”_ _  
_ _“_ _Yes. I know. It doesn’t mean I can’t be angry.”_ _  
_ _“_ _You’ve never been angry before. When I was gone for training!”_ _  
_ _“_ _Yes. TRAINING! FOUR WEEKS OF TRAINING! TWICE A YEAR! This. Is. DIFFERENT! It’s a whole YEAR!”_ _  
_ _“_ _Right! One year! Which I’ve TOLD YOU MIGHT HAPPEN BEFORE WE GOT MARRIED!”_ _  
_ _“_ _God dammit, Poe! I know. I KNOW. Okay. But this is DIFFERENT?”_ _  
_ _“_ _Explain to me exactly HOW?”_ _  
_ _“_ _BECAUSE... Because... because I’m pregnant, okay.”_  
  
The look on Poe’s face when you’d stormed out had been priceless. The look on yours when you’d returned to find the place empty... Maybe it’s best to leave the ugly in the fog. God. The tears you’d cried that day. Alone in bed, angry. So so angry, a single thought in head: _How can he not understand that this is different?_ _  
  
_ _A dip in the bed, Poe is next to you a second later, nudges you to roll over._ He smiles with irritated red eyes, plays with your hair. “We’re going to be parents.”  
More tears, racing heart. Damn the hormones. “I’m scared, Poe. What... what if something happens? What if you don’t come back? I’m going to be alone. I can’t... I can’t do this alone. Poe...”  
  
Poe lets you cry in his arms, keeps rubbing circles over your back until you’ve calmed. “Mi armor, listen. Please?” He waits, kisses into your hair when you nod. “You’re not alone. Ever. You’ll have lonely nights, yes. But you’re never alone because we take care of each other, watch out for each other. Someone will always be there you. Time will fly, and before you know it, I’ll be back and you’ll get annoyed with me leaving socks everywhere again.”  
  
A soft snicker lets Poe know that you’ve heard him. He kisses you again, sweeps a hand over your tear-stained face. “I wanna show you something.” He whispers, takes your hand firmly when he helps you off the bed.  
  
In low light, you see a big box on the living room floor. One that Poe had been adamant about not opening after moving into base housing. Now it sits flaps up, ready to get unpacked. Hand still in Poe’s, you take a careful peek inside, tears on the brim again when you see what it is. “When did you get all this?” You slowly pull a tiny yellow onesie from the very top, then a pair of tiny soft yellow booties.  
“It’s mine. Mom had saved a few things. Dad gave me the box after we got back from our honeymoon. I guess he was trying to give me a hint.”  
  
More tears again, you clutch Poe’s baby clothes against your chest. “Promise me, PROMISE ME, you’ll try your best not to get hurt or worse. Promise me, please?”  
“I promise. I promise I’ll try my best. And I’ll try to be there. When time comes. Already called my CO. _All I need is the due date and we’ll work my R and R around it. I promise, mi amor...”_ _  
_  
Poe had held you all night that night, had rubbed a hand over your tummy again and again and again. And the day he’d left, he’d dropped to his knees, whispered “behave for mama” and “I can’t wait to see you, little bean”.  
  
There are a few things you’d learned during that year. First, Poe had been right about not being alone. Lonely, yes, but never alone. All you had to do was call and friends and family would be at the doorstep ASAP. Second, what Poe wants, Poe gets. You’re sure he still owes a few favors to get an extra week off for R and R because Shara loved living rent free in your belly. And third, Poe ugly cries when beauty overwhelms his heart. Like really ugly cries. (He’d cried at your wedding, too, but this had been different... more... a tiny new life in big strong hands... )  
  
Laughter lifts the fog, helps you refocus on the now. Thirty years, there’ve been many ups and downs. Birthdays and Christmases and anniversaries spent alone or together, home and abroad, in hotels or settled into yet another place. Such is the life in the service.  
  
The golden days have been earned, are here. Settled into second life and permanent home, Poe still leaves his socks everywhere. And you still worry when he has to leave for extended periods of time. But it’s different now. You’re older, wiser, know how to cope. At least now, whenever Poe leaves, it’s for a week at a time only. And usually only when things can’t get taken care of remotely. In the end, he always returns to you, to home and life and love.  
  
More laughter from the kitchen, it’s time to check what everyone else is up to. You pass through the short hallway connecting kitchen and living room, glance at the framed pictures taking up every square inch on its walls. A shared life portrayed in candids and professional snapshots, your favorite is the extra large print of Rapier squadron dancing at your wedding, groomsmen wearing ugly holiday sweaters and bridesmaids cute elf hats. They all look carefree, some with babes in arms, all while Kes leads you in formal circles through the crowd, Poe trailing behind asking for his bride back.  
  
 _“_ _You get to dance for the rest of your lives, son. Let an old man have a little bit of joy.”_  
It’s clear where Poe got it from. That confident swagger and wit and cheeky smile and boyish mischief. You wonder how Poe’s mother had dealt with them, the original and the carbon copy. Wish she could’ve witnessed that her son has stayed kind and caring and gentle despite life being harsh at times; trying to make him hard with war and loss, and the demons that haunts those who’ve experienced both.  
  
“There you are. We were just talking about you.” Poe smiles when he sees you lost in thought. He closes in, places a soft kiss above an arched brow. “You okay?”  
How much you love his eyes. And those dark, long lashes that sync with every soft gaze, that accentuate depth and intelligence and warmth and life. You lean into Poe, kiss the side of his stubbled jaw. “Yes.”  
  
Another smile, Poe nudges you to the kitchen, offers a plate of huevos rancheros and fried plantains. “Brunch, mi amor.” He kisses the tip of your nose, hands you an orange juice refill while Beeps welcomes you with snuffled breaths around your feet before he settles back into the warmest corner.  
  
Shara steals a piece of fried plantain off your plate, speaks through hamster stuffed cheeks. “Did dad tell you we were talking about you?”  
“I figured. My ears were burning.” You snicker and Shara sticks out her tongue. “So, what’s the gossip?”  
“No gossip.” Shara steals another piece before moving on to Leon’s plate to steal a fried potato. “It’ch chust, wait... it’s just that you know, the age old question of what would be the perfect gift for dad and he keeps saying the same thing. He’s already got what he’s wanted. Says you know. So what is it?”  
  
Shara exchanges looks between Poe and you, catches the frisky wink Poe gives you. “Oh my god. Is it a sex thing? Wait... am I ... you know what. I don’t wanna know.”  
Poe laughs, gears spinning behind mischievous eyes. “Took you long enough to figure it out.”  
“Wait? I was right? What? Wait October, September, August, July, June...” Shara counts backwards on her fingers, squints at her dad. “Fricking liar! But thanks, thanks for ruining January for me.”  
  
Shy as he is, not even Leon can hold back busting out a laugh. “Babe. It’s okay. Not everyone is good at math.”  
If looks could kill, Leon would be ashes. “You’re lucky I can’t run right now.” Shara points her fork at him, waddles over and pokes his arm. “But just you wait.” She warns, kisses her husband sweetly after. “Just. You. Wait.”  
“Now who’s being gross.” Poe interrupts the kids, throws a cookie at them and you laugh, again.  
  
Thing is, Shara is right about you knowing. Poe had told you long ago, whispered it in your ear during your first dance as husband and wife.  
  
 _“_ _You know the best present -no, day in my life? It’s the day you whispered yes. Things will come close and I can’t wait for them, but the day you said yes was like the universe expanded tenfold and then some. It made space for our life. And I promise you, I will fill that space with everything you want and need, everything to make us happy.”_  
  
You smile, the rosy days of young love on your mind. Poe, ever the romantic, had proposed a year after that first night together. Had kept it simple and sweet with a small gold box wrapped in beautiful lace ribbon. Given you his heart and soul in humble gesture: a set of tags with both your names embossed and with the chain slipped through a simple solitaire ring.  
  
“What’s on your mind, agápi mou?” Poe’s next to you, takes your empty plate.  
He calls you many sweet names in many different languages. Love, sunshine, sweetie, peach, sometimes even sugar... But agápi mou hits differently. It’s yours and yours alone, has been since that first shared night. “You are.” You whisper, give Poe a hug.  
  
It’s as though the universe knows when you’re sharing a tender moment. The chime of Poe’s cell announces a new message. “Karé says they’re almost here.” Poe smiles, starts pulling large pots and iron cast skillets from the cabinets. “She says Snap wants us to preheat the oven to three-seventy-five and to start some water.”  
  
The calm before the storm turns into a simmer. Leon nudges a protesting Shara to take a seat, to let him handle things with Poe. “The pots are heavy.” Is his excuse.  
“So is this baby.” Shara munches on a cookie, sips on a glass of milk.  
“See. You’re already carrying enough weight.”  
A collective gasp, all movement stops.  
  
“Are you saying I’m fat?”  
Poor Leon. The reply stuck in his throat, he shakes his head, creates distance between himself and his wife. There are too many utensils on the kitchen island and Shara has great aim. “I’m just worried, babe. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”  
Dramatic gestures are a Dameron trait. Shara rolls her eyes, extends her arm like an opera singer. “Father, thou hast corrupted my consort.”  
  
Poe laughs, refills his daughter’s glass with milk, kisses into her curly hair. “Isn’t that the goal?”  
“MoooOooom. A little help?”  
You shake your head, laughing. Yup. Shara’s almost all Poe and with the way things are going, you suspect your grandchild will be a carbon copy of Shara.  
  
You take a seat next to your daughter, chuckle at her never-ending grazing of foods. A cracker here. A piece of cheese there. A grape. A cookie. Carrot sticks. Apple slices.“Are you guys all set?”  
Shara huffs. “Yes mom. We’ve been set since you guys found out. I’m pretty sure we don’t need all those diapers.”  
You laugh, sweep a hand over Shara’s cheek. “You’d be surprised. Besides, whatever you don’t end up using you can always donate.”  
Shara nods, smiles softly. “I know, mom.”  
  
It’s another very Dameron trait. Kindness and a giving nature. Sometimes you wonder how you got so lucky, how a single evening sitting with a stranger had turned into all of this. No regrets. There’d been tough times, the ups and downs of life, but you’d do it all over again in a heartbeat if it means to spend a second lifetime with Poe...  
  
“Mom? Hello?” Shara waves a hand in front of your face, pokes your arm next. “Stop ogling dad’s butt.”  
“Was not. Okay... maybe a little.” You snicker when Poe sways his backside for you.  
“You guys are gross. Just... wow. Anyways. I was asking what your perfect present would be. You know, something you always wanted. And you can’t pull the dad mystery card.” Shara uses air quotations.  
  
Another chime, two, three... you see your cell’s display light up with several messages.  
  
From Jyn: Just landed. Picking up rental next. See you soon.  
From Steve & Bucky: Merry Christmas. We're sorry we couldn't fly out this year. FaceTime later?  
From Finn: We’ll be a little late. Got a life-ending crisis. Junior forgot his cellphone charger.  
From Kes: Make space under the tree and tell Poe I’ll need help unloading the car.  
  
The storm is closing in. You chuckle, relay messages, watch as Poe pulls on his snow boots and your shared over-sized hoodie.  
“Mom? You haven’t answered my question.” Shara pouts.  
You think about the tree, the photographs on the walls, this morning. “I already got what I wanted.” You smile.  
“Mom. I said you can’t do the dad mystery card thing. At least tell us what it is.”  
A glance to Poe, a glance to Shara, images of Christmas trees and laughter, karaoke nights and school plays, graduations, moves, vacations, birthdays, and anniversaries, crystal ship, Poe’s given you exactly what you’d asked. “The world.” His world.


End file.
